Singularity
by EninasSmile
Summary: Barry's life is in shambles as he is convicted for a horrible crime he hasn't commited and is locked away in Iron Heights, without his powers and alone. Years later, once again free, he has to rebuild his life. Things aren't easy but he soon realizes that he isn't as alone as he thought. [Barry/Len-pairing]
1. Chapter 1

**SEPTEMBER 1****st**** year**

It is raining, when Barry steps out of Iron Heights for the first time in over seven years.

The late September air is cool and crisp and he keeps standing there, outside the high walls of the place he spent what feels like an eternity in, not sure where to go now.

He glances nervously over his shoulder but the guards are no longer there and the door, through which he has just left the prison, is once again closed.

The backpack he is carrying is light. There isn't much left of private belongings for him to own after more than half a decade. He isn't worried, not about any gone possessions, anyway.

Barry shoots another brief look over his shoulder, a bit worried that one of the guards would appear any moment again.

There is nobody, he is alone out here.

He decides to make his way over to the bus stop he can see not too far from where he is standing.

It is so odd being out here, on the other side of these huge walls, away from this horrible place. The relief he is feeling is immense and he silently prays to whatever god there is that this is really finally over.

There is nobody else around at the small unroofed stop and while there is a bench, he decides to keep standing. Today he is the only one who has been discharged, which gives him the possibility to enjoy the peace and quiet he hasn't had for years, at least until his ride would arrive.

Barry doesn't dare to look back again, the worry that all this could turn out to be a mistake and he would have to go back sits heavy in his stomach. Instead, he looks down the street, in the direction from which the bus is going to arrive, or at the ground, studying the dirty wet road.

The change for the ticket is in his trouser pocked and he firmly keeps a hand around it, a bit afraid that he could somehow lose it and then not be able to get away from here after all. He knows it is a silly notion but even so he can't help it.

His back is hurting quite badly again but the nausea that has been following him around for the last couple of days is finally starting to cease.

The rain gets stronger and he wonders how the others are and whether they know that he is discharged today or whether they even care.

Barry closes his eyes and enjoys the brief solitude, the feeling of the cool rain on his skin and the light patter of raindrops around him.

The first trip he has to do outside of the prison leads him to his parole officer.

Barry has met with Ms Jenkins already a handful of times before and like then, she doesn't seem at all that fond of the fact that she has gotten stuck with him as a parolee.

She is a very no-nonsense woman in her late fifties who keeps on making biting comments about his alleged crimes and tells him point-blank that she does not believe him able to stay out of prison for more than a few months. Barry doesn't argue with her, he feels mostly exhausted and confused and just wants to go somewhere he can rest.

Ms Jenkins gives him the address of his new living place, which turns out to be a small flat in a rundown apartment building at the western border area of the Keys.

The flat consists of three rooms, through which he gets a brief tour. He is so tired that he hardly picks up on what is said to him and he only follows the small woman who has introduced herself as his landlady quietly. The entrance door leads directly into the living area and main room of the small apartment and while it isn't exactly spacious it isn't small either. He is a bit taken aback by its size. After years being mostly confined to a 6 by 8 feet cell, it is a bit overwhelming to have so much space to himself again.

There is also a small kitchenette attached to the room and an old couch which looks like it probably hails from sometime around the mid-eighties.

The bedroom is smaller but it hold a full-sized bed, much to his surprise, even though it looks like its good days have long since passed. It takes up most of the space and there is just a small wardrobe squeezed in the remaining space next to the door.

The last room is a tiny bathroom that offers a shower, a toilet and a sink. The thought of being able to take a shower in private nearly chokes him up and he notices again how his landlady keeps glancing at him nervously as they make their way back to the entrance. He gives her a small smile but she only frowns and firmly tells him that the rent is going to be due on the first every month.

"This is no shelter, if you are unable to pay you will get kicked out. Do you understand?"

Barry nods quietly and locks the door after she has left. He takes his shoes off and goes straight to the small bathroom. His back is hurting badly enough by now that he has started to grow slightly nauseous again.

A slight shaking overcomes him as he pulls his shirt off and briefly views the mangled flesh in the mirror. He quickly turns away again.

After showering, he carefully dries the stiches and burns and applies the ointment he got from the prison's infirmary and takes the couple of pills they have given him. He knows that he shouldn't take them on an empty stomach but he feels too exhausted to leave and buy some food with the money he got from his parole officer. Instead, he decides to go to bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

The second day after his release he starts a job as a salesclerk in a small Asian grocery store about fifty minutes by bus from his flat. The store owner is a nice older Asian woman in her early seventies who introduces herself to him as Bo Ming.

Barry is caught off-guard by how kindly she treat him despite knowing that he is an ex-convict. She doesn't seem bothered by his stammer either and doesn't become irritated when he grows nervous enough while he has to interact with customers that he starts to make the stupidest mistakes. Instead, she simply stays at his side and helps him.

He quickly starts to treasure the time he spends in the little store.

It is within the first two days of him staying in the little apartment that it becomes apparent that the walls of his flat are not meant to be very soundproofed. They are thin enough that it becomes common place that he has trouble falling asleep due to how some of his neighbours don't seem to care that they aren't the only residents around.

His persisting nightmares aren't helping either. His dreams are a jumble of what has happened in the prison, of Michael and the other guards, and of things that lay much futher back. Sometimes, the judging and disappointed faces of his former friends mingle in with all the rest and follow him around in those dreams, as does their disgust, and Barry prefers not to try to go back to sleep those nights.

He feels very alone during these nights.

Barry starts sketching when he is not able to sleep. It is an old habit he hasn't pursued since his late teenage years and with all the free time at hand and nothing better to do it seems about as good as anything else.

The address Len gave him starts to come more and more often to his mind during these late hours. So does the other man himself.

Weeks turn into months and Barry's new live becomes once again routine.

**January 1st year**

Four months into his parole Barry finally decides to go to the address Len gave him.

He still has doubts about it and he isn't sure what he is promising himself from this but there aren't many people in his life anymore and he just feels so lonely at times. Aside from that, he hasn't seen the other man in quite a while and he is a bit curious how he is doing.

The address leads him to an apartment complex which isn't as seedy as his own but comes close. It is half an hour per public traffic away from his place. He checks the address two times before he enters through the open doorway.

The floor lights are working, even if they are rather dim for the most part. It still is a definitive improvement over his apartment building and he tries to concentrate on his steps as he climbs the stairs so that his nerves wouldn't get the better of him and succeed in getting him to turn around and leave.

There is no buzzer next to the plain looking door that shows a six below the spyhole and after hesitating for another moment he takes a calming breath and knocks.

A woman in her middle to late-thirties opens the door. She is pretty looking, rather curvy but not chubby and with long auburn hair. Her face appears a bit plump due to her full cheeks and she has very beautiful eyes, big and brown like the one of a fawn. She wears enough make-up that it together her a bit of a tacky look, though.

"What do you want?"

She is audible annoyed and it isn't hard to guess for Barry that he has disturbed her by something. Meeting this woman instead of Len has caught him completely off-guard and he isn't sure how to response. It doesn't help that he can feel how is throat is once again closing up on him.

"What is your problem? You are a bit slow or something?"

She gives him a rather impressive sneer and she doesn't seem so pretty anymore.

He swallows nervously before he starts to speak.

"N-no, s-s-sor-ry, I-I a-am l-look-king f-f-for a-a…"

Barry breaks off, uncertain what to call Len. He decides to ask her outright, seeing that he has already made enough of a fool of himself.

"I-is L-Len h-h-"

"For fuck's sake, if you get any slower you will start speaking backwards," she hisses and it is obvious that she is clearly irritated by him:" You are wasting my time, come back when you are able to get a freaking word out without sounding like a damn idiot."

Taken aback by that harsh words and the hostile demeanour, Barry can feel how his voice gives totally out on him. He wants to protest but doesn't get his vocals to works and the woman doesn't pay any mind to him anymore anyway. She has already turned away from him.

The door is shut in his face and Barry simply stares at it, uncertain what to do now.

Maybe he got the address wrong?

This woman is a total stranger to him and while Len mentioned something of a younger sister to him, he knows that she is supposed to be blond.

Feeling lost and really stupid, Barry turns back towards the direction he has come from. After giving the closed door one last glance, he starts to make his way back towards the staircase. As he does so he pulls the little scrap of paper out of his pocked and reads it once more. It is the right place which means that the other man has written down a false address and lied to him.

Of course he has, why wouldn't he? Barry grits his teeth and tries to ignore the painful pang in his chest. He is such an idiot, it is his own fault that he has gotten hurt by something like this. Why would he have expected anything else from him to begin with? Cold is a criminal, after all.

Barry has just reached the top of the stairs when he hears a door behind him open and the rather agitated voice from the woman he has met just a minute ago reaches his ears.

Surprised, he turns around and the heavy knot in his stomach starts to ease as he spots Len, who has stepped out of the apartment and is now standing in the shady lit floor.

Their eyes meet a second later and, contrary to his own, the other man's expression is calm and collected as usual and doesn't give away what he thinks of him turning up like this at his place. Still, Barry is pretty sure that he is surprised to see him.

Len beckons him back before he re-enters the apartment, all the while, the woman is speaking in a low but audibly sharp tone to him. She doesn't seem very happy about being disturbed by whatever they have been doing. By now, Barry has a rather good hunch of why she is there.

His assumption is confirmed when he reaches the entrance of the flat.

"So what?! You send me away because of that snip? You booked me for the whole night, Len! And look at that shitty weather outside! I am sure as hell not going to look for another john tonight just because you've forgotten that you have already something else planned!"

Feeling a lot like an unwelcome intruder, Barry has stopped at the door and is now watching the exchange with growing discomfort. The woman's big locks jump slightly as she angrily wavers her hands about and he notices how her cheek have become slightly flushed due to her anger.

"You get your damn money, Izzy, stop chewing my ear off," grunts Len and grabs his wallet from the back pocket of the faded jeans he is wearing.

The woman, Izzy, doesn't seem appeased by that and eyes the two one hundred dollar notes with open contempt before she snatches them and stuffs them into her purse.

"Fine, you want to spend your evening with that sissy-boy, be my guest. It is your loss, after all."

Izzy gives Len another hard look before turning around and walking towards the door. As she reaches Barry, she stops and eyes him for an unpleasant moment.

A rather nasty smile appears on her face as her gaze moves up to meet his after she has finished scrutinizing him.

"Mmh, you do look like someone who knows how to appreciate a good ride, Sweety, don't you?"

Barry flinches slightly and averts his eyes. A nauseating feeling starts to take hold of his stomach and he crosses his arms in front of his chest in a protective manner.

"Back off, Izzy," hisses Len and Barry watches how the woman turns towards the other man with a rather dark frown. She settles for a shrug in the end.

"I am going, I am going, don't get your panties in a bunch."

The look she gives Barry as she finally passes him and leaves is one of palpable dislike.

"Tata, sissy-boy."

The door shuts with a loud smack which causes him to jump slightly and he really hopes he isn't going to cross the way with that rude woman anytime soon again.

Barry reluctantly turns around to Len, feeling a bit uneasy as her words haven't just been crass but also very embarrassing.

A tense moment passes by in silence before Len smirks slightly and nods towards the couch behind him.

"Take a seat, I will grab you a beer."

He hesitates briefly before making his way over to the offered seating accommodation.

As he does so, he lets his eyes move through the flat that seems to be hardly bigger than his own and he can't help but wrinkle his nose as he picks up on the mess that greets him everywhere. It has probably been quite a while since someone took even just a duster to this place.

The couch looks old and worn out but is clean and comfortable enough as he sits down after he put two empty pizza boxes away. Seeing that the small couch table is stacked full with magazines, papers, empty beer bottles and something that looked a lot like blueprints, he simply put them on the ground next to his feet.

Out of the corner of his eyes he picks up on something glinting in the room lights and looks towards the cupboard closest to the one window in the room. His eyebrow rise when he sees part of what looks incredibly much like the Stanley cup peep out in between a mishmash of dirty laundry, books and other stuff.

How for Pete's sake did that thing come here?

Something cool and hard knocks slightly against his shoulder and causes him to freeze up in alarm.

"Relax, it's just a beer," Len meets Barry's embarrassed gaze calmly.

"Th-th-th-"

The flush on his face intensives when his voice still refuses to work and he breaks off, averting his eyes. Barry grabs the offered can and simply nods instead. He can feel the other man's gaze on him for a long moment afterwards before he also takes a seat on the couch. He is immensely grateful when Len leaves more than an arm's length space between them.

The familiar hissing sound of a beer can being opened fills the room for a second while he just holds onto his own. It is feels pleasantly cool in his hands.

"So," says Len after has taken another long swig of his beer:" You've decided to pass by."

Their eyes meet briefly when Barry glances at him before he turns back to the still unopened beer can and nods quietly. It hasn't been a question but he isn't really sure what else to do.

"Didn't thought you would."

The other man smirks in a way as if he has said something funny and Barry gives him a slightly wary look. Len notices it and shrugs but doesn't explain himself. It isn't really necessary. They had been fighting on the opposite end of the law for a long time, after all.

They fall quiet again for a while and while it isn't exactly comfortable, it isn't unpleasant either. Barry watches how the other man grabs the remote from amid the mess on the little table in front of them and turns the television on. The noise of some advertisement chases the silence away before Len changes the channel to a football game.

It is half-time right now and cheerleaders dance across the screen of the television in skimpy outfits and offering quite an impressive performance.

Barry's nerves start to settle down after some minutes when he realizes that the other man's focus is on the show right now. He isn't sure whether he should feel a bit annoyed by this or not. He settles for the later. One big worry has been, aside that Cold could react hostile to his visit or not be there at all, that they would just sit around in a tense and awkward silence before the other man would kick him out again. This doesn't seem to be something he has to worry about just yet.

The game is interesting enough even though Barry never has been a big football fan. It has been a while that he hasn't spent an evening alone. They don't talk but it is still nice to just have another person nearby, especially one he can feel no hostility coming from.

"You want something else?"

Barry, whose eyes have started to grow heavy, startles and his body tenses up nearly painfully for a second.

"I get another beer," explains Len when he meets his confused gaze and nods towards the still unopened can in his hand:" You want to stick with it or shall I grab you a coke?"

The notion of having something else but beer is tempting but he hasn't had one in an eternity and actually wants to drink it. His stomach has settled down again as well, therefore he shakes his head and gives the other man a nervous smile.

"I-I w-will s-stick w-with i-it b-b-but c-could I-I g-get a-a g-glas o-of w-w-wat-ter?"

Len nods and makes his way around the couch towards where his small kitchen is.

The game ends about forty minutes later and judging by the other man's lack of real reaction he doesn't seem to have been all that invested in it either. Barry, who has stopped following it a while ago, rubs his tired eyes and fights against the urge to yawn. The by now half empty can is warm in his hand and he lifts it up to his lips to take another small sip. It tastes rather nasty, now that it is no longer cold, but he doesn't like the notion of wasting it, especially after he has gotten it for free.

The TV is shut off and Len gets up to grab himself another beer. Barry declines when he asks him whether he want another one too.

"You don't have to finish it."

Len nods towards the can in his hand and judging by the look he gives it, it is obvious that he can imagine how it tastes by now.

"I-it i-is f-fine."

"It has to taste like piss by now."

Barry makes a face and gives the other man an annoyed look, which causes him to smirk slightly.

"Suit yourself."

He comes back with a fresh beer and a bag of pretzels and Barry's mouth immediately starts to water. Len doesn't miss his look and holds the bag towards him after he has opened it.

"Help yourself."

The smell of the snack causes Barry's stomach to growl embarrassingly loud and he feels his cheeks heat up before he grabs a handful and mutters his thanks. He expects the other man to comment on this, maybe make a quip about how thin he looks or whether he isn't able to buy himself any food. Len doesn't, though.

"Wanna play a game of poker?"

Surprised, Barry turns back to the other man.

"P-pok-ker?"

His face grows hot again as he listens to his bad stammer. He really hates this damn handicap so much at times like this.

"Yeah," agrees Len and doesn't seem faced by his speech impediment, which eases his nerves a bit.

At his hesitation to agree, the other man gives him a funny look.

"You know how to play?"

"N-n-no."

Barry shakes his head and is a bit amused by how incredulous his host seems by this piece of news for a second.

"N-n-not e-e-everyb-body c-can."

"No shit," snorts Len and gets up to get the cards. It is then that Barry remembers that you usually play for money as a wager in that game and his good mood drops.

"I-I d-d-don't h-have a-a-any m-money," he explains as Len comes back and quickly adds after he realizes how pathetic this has to sound:" F-f-for sp-spend-ding i-it o-o-on g-gambling, I-I m-mean."

The other man shrugs and nods towards the bag of pretzels while he starts to shuffle the cards.

"That will do just as fine."

They end up dividing the amount of the still nearly full bag of pretzels between them. Barry asks for three bowls where they can stash and place their token as he doesn't like the idea to simply put them on a couch he doesn't know what has happened on before. Len shoots him a somewhat exasperated look at that request but humours him.

"You have any idea of the rules?"

"N-no."

Barry watches how the other man shuffles the deck of cards again. It is obvious that he is quite familiar with this judging by how quick he is.

"It's a rather easy game," he starts and puts the cards down before he picks up a small stash and looks through them. A number of five cards are picked and he shows them to him.

"This hand is called a no pair, or a Queen High because your highest card would be the Queen. It is the lowest ranking hand you can get other than for another no pair with a High Card below the Queen."

Over the next five minutes, Len explains the different hands and couple of rules to him. Surprisingly enough, the game turns out to be really not all that difficult. The important thing is to keep a good poker face.

Barry, who has never really been a fan of games you need to place wages in, can't help but feel curious about it.

"I-I h-h-have t-to w-warn y-you, m-my p-p-poker f-face s-s-sucks."

He picks up the cards Len has dealt him and shoots the other man a slightly apologetic look.

"Everybody sucks at this game at first."

Len doesn't seem bothered and instead shuffles his cards around. His face is already giving nothing away.

Barry holds his tongue and doesn't inform him that he has never been any good to school his features and instead turns his attention back to his own hand. He has gotten three Jacks, which doesn't seem so bad.

Six games later, Len agrees with him wholeheartedly.

"You really should never play for actual money," he advises with a way too amused smirk as he grabs the pretzels from the token cup and puts them in his second one he had to get after he had filled the first one up.

"You wanna play another one?"

Frowning, Barry shoots him a dark look and shakes his head.

"N-n-no, th-thanks."

Right now, he doesn't think that he will ever try this stupid game again. It isn't as if Len hasn't been helpful or anything like that, he is even pretty sure that the other man went light on him. He even had a couple of really good hands but he still hasn't been able to win a single one. His own cup holds meagre five pretzels and he really thinks they would do more good in his stomach than squandered in another game he is undoubtedly going to lose as well.

Len grabs the empty plastic bag in which the snack has been stashed before and puts his wins back in before he gets up to probably grab himself another beer. Barry eyes the bag of pretzels he has left on the couch and wonders if the other man would mind if he takes another handful.

"Take the damn bag," tells him Len from the kitchen and startles Barry by doing so:" I opened them so that they would finally be gone, I hate that salty dry shit."

A part of him wants to protest and point out that he doesn't need charity but he is well aware of how stupid that would be.

"Th-thanks."

The other man only grunts in reply and turns up with another two bottles of cool beer a moment later.

Seeing how hungry he is, the pretzels are more than delicious and he quickly eats half of the bag before he has to stop because he starts to feel sick.

"You missed dinner today?"

"Y-yeah, I-I h-h-had t-t-to w-w-work b-b-bef-fore I-I c-c-came h-here," he answers nervously and hopes that the other man wouldn't inquire anymore. He is pretty sure that Len knows that he hasn't just missed dinner, he can see himself in the mirror every morning and is well aware of how gaunt and tired he looks.

Much to his relief, he seems to pick up on how uncomfortable this question has made him.

"So, you've stuck to the job those wankers got you after your release?"

It is audible what he thinks of that.

"Y-yes, i-i-it i-is b-bet-ter th-than n-n-noth-thing."

"You still don't seem to earn all that much."

Barry grits his teeth and glares at the other man.

"A-at l-l-least I-I a-a-am e-earning m-my i-inc-c-come."

As soon as the words has left his mouth, he is regretting them already. He doesn't want to start an argument or cause the other man to get angry. It has been a surprisingly pleasant evening so far and he doesn't want it to end with him being kicked out. Still, he sticks to his point seeing that he is getting by with legal work, no matter how meagre his income is.

Against his worry, Len simply snorts and gives him an incredulous look before he shakes his head.

"Fucking cape-"

"D-d-don't c-call m-me th-that!" hisses Barry furiously. His body tenses up on its own and he tries not to grimace as this causes a familiar pain in most of his limps to flare up again.

For a brief moment, Len seems taken aback by how angry he has gotten before he frowns and shrugs.

"Right, my bad."

Barry turns his gaze back on the cool can of beer he has been hand just a bit ago and marvels over how quickly his good mood has vanished again. He starts to regret to have come here after all. It has been a stupid idea, no matter how lonely he is.

"I-I th-think I-I sh-should g-g-go, i-it i-is a-alr-ready l-late."

Seeing that he hasn't a watch, he has no way to say what time it exactly is but he is sure that he has spent already a couple of hours here.

"Yeah," agrees the other man simply as he gets on his feet and sounds much less welcoming than before. Barry feels bad all of a sudden, like an ungrateful arse and tries to think of something to say after he has gotten up as well.

"Th-thanks f-f-for th-the b-b-beer a-and th-the p-p-p-"

A hot flush comes over his face again and he averts his eyes to the still unopened can of beer in his hand.

"Th-the s-snack," he finishes lamely.

"Sure," grunts Len and sounds very much like he doesn't really want to have him here anymore, which is surprisingly disconcerting. Despite that, he hasn't moved away from him nor tries to usher him towards the door.

"I-I…"

His throat feel dry and he coughs slightly.

"I-I r-really e-enj-joined th-the e-even-ning," he explains and glances to the other man who is watching him with a cool expression:" Th-thanks f-for t-taking th-the t-time. I-I… th-thanks."

His face has grown so uncomfortably hot by now that he is sure it is going to catch fire any moment now. He swiftly grabs his coat from the armrest of the couch, puts the can of beer on the counter of the couch table and turns around to leave.

"Wait."

Barry stops shortly before the door and turns around in apprehension to see the other man come up to him. Len offers him the half empty bag of pretzels and he gives it a surprised look.

"You've forgotten that."

For a second he wants to decline because he doesn't want to exploit the other man any more than he has already and he can't offer him anything in return. It seems that his thoughts are plain on his face as Len huffs in annoyance before he pushes the bag against his chest so that he automatically takes a hold of it.

"Just take it, I am glad that I am finally rid of it."

"Th-thank y-you."

Barry gives him an uncertain but grateful smile.

"M-mayb-be w-we…" he starts but stops himself when he realizes that it probably wouldn't be a good idea for them to meet again. The notion is saddening.

"Where did they put you?"

"Wh-what?"

"Where is your place?"

Barry isn't really sure whether he really wants to give his address away and hesitates for a long moment, which causes Len to sigh in annoyance.

"Look, you don't wanna tell me, that's fine."

"N-no," disagrees Barry much to his own surprise and swallows before he goes on:" Y-you h-h-have a-a p-p-pap-per o-or s-someth-thing f-for m-me t-to w-write i-i-it d-down o-on?"

It is clear that Len hasn't really expected him to agree and he studies him quietly for a second with an odd look Barry isn't sure how to interpret. Then, it is gone and the other man nods.

"Sure."


	2. A Sketch Of Your Thoughts

"Oh, did you draw this?"

Barry stops from stocking up the canned beans and looks over to the counter where Mrs Ming is currently studying a sheet of paper. It takes him a second before he realizes that it is the sketch he made this morning after opening the store and waiting for the first customers to arrive.

His face flushes immediately and he gets up from his spot where he has been crouching in front of one of shelves. He grimaces slightly when a sharp pain flashes through his knees which have been acting up rather badly lately, likely due to the still damp and cool weather.

"S-sorry, I-I w-won't d-do th-this ag-gain d-during w-work."

The old woman lifts her eyes from the sketching and turns her attention back to him. Barry feels his face grow even warmer when she studies him with a small frown. The worry that he is going to get in trouble for dawdling around during work makes his stomach knot up and the notion that he could disappoint her doesn't sit well with him either.

Her features relax again, though, and a familiar warm smile spreads across her lips as she shakes her head and chuckles.

"Don't worry, Barry, I don't mind if you draw when there is nothing else to do. You have picked yourself quite a nice hobby."

Again, she turns back to the – in his opinion rather crude – drawing and he suddenly feels the intent urge to snatch it out of her hands and hide it from her or anybody else's gaze. He knows that it is probably not to make out whom he has sketched but it still makes him nervous.

"Have you been drawing for a long time?"

"S-somewhat," he explains:" I u-used t-to w-when I-I w-was y-younger and s-started a-again a b-bit a-ago."

Mrs Ming hums in understanding and gives him an appreciative look.

"You are quite talented," she tells him:" A bit rough around the edges but still very good."

Not sure how to take the compliment, he stays quiet. Barry really wishes she would put the piece of paper finally away.

It seems that the older woman picks up on his discomfort and does just that.

"I am sorry, I haven't meant to snoop."

"N-no, i-it is f-f-fine, I-I… I j-just… u-usualy n-nob-body s-sees m-my d-drawings. I-I d-don't th-think th-they a-are any g-good."

"Well, this one definitely is," disagrees Mrs Ming and asks him what medium he usually works with. Barry frowns and shrugs.

"N-nothing s-special r-really, j-just a p-pen and s-some o-old p-papers."

He never bothered to buy any drawing utensils, seeing that he doesn't exactly has the money to spare nor does he think that this is an investment he can really justify.

Mrs Ming hums again softly and turns her gaze back to the sketch with a rather thoughtful look.

"Is this a friend of yours?"

Barry has hoped that she wouldn't ask about the person he has absentmindedly sketched a couple of hours ago. His cheeks grow hot and he looks away.

"A-an a-a-aqu-quaintance."

Again, she studies him for another long moment. Then, as if she had come to a conclusion, she nods and tells Barry that she would prepare them some tea.

He is glad when she is gone and he is finally able to grab the paper and tuck it away in the back pocket of his pants.

Sketching is something he has picked up again because it helps him to relax but he regrets it at times like this when his mind starts to drift off and his hand seems to move more or less on its own accord. This usually causes him to go from drawing little doodles or places to people, especially those he hasn't seen in years. It is like a bucket of cold water is emptied over his head when his mind comes back to what he is currently drawing and he realizes that he is looking at a familiar face from his past.

Barry swallows and turns to go back to the shelf he has been restocking.

The folded paper feels heavy in his pocked and he tries not to think of the fact that he has drawn a new face this morning, one which unsettles and confuses him a little. He thinks about getting rid of it but knows that he most likely wouldn't do so. It has turned out surprisingly well and while it is embarrassing he will probably hold on to it.

The doorbell chimes and announces the arrival of a customer so that Barry is able to get his mind off the sketch he has done. The notion of Len still follows him around for the rest of the afternoon.

The sound of sharp knocking startles Barry from a light slumber and causes him to tense up with a twinge of panic, till he realizes where he is.

Groggily, he gets up and looks to the clock that hangs over the doorway of the small corridor to his bedroom. He frowns when he sees that it is already half past ten. It seems that his catnap has already lasted for nearly two hours.

Concerned, he turns towards the door and hisses slightly when a sharp pain flashes through his neck and back. Barry is reminded why he usually prefers not to fall asleep on that old piece of junk that is his couch.

Another knocking follows, a bit sharper than the one before and he looks towards the door again as an apprehensive feeling starts to spread through his guts. He never has visitors, especially not this late at night.

It isn't uncommon for people being robbed in their own homes here and he wonders whether he simply could try to ignore it. This probably wouldn't be a wise idea, though, as a burglar would undoubtedly see that as an invitation to try his luck. Then, he remembers that he has the lights still on and that whoever is there has undoubtedly picked up on this as well.

Barry grits his teeth as he gets up and tries to loosen up his tense muscles in his back a bit by rolling his shoulders before making his way over to the door, just as another knock follows. By how harshly it sounds, it is obvious that his late night visitor is getting impatient with him. He starts to get a bit irritated as well and wonders whether a burglar could really be stupid enough to make this much noise. Then again, the people living here prefer to ignore anything that doesn't happen within their own four walls and the criminals likely know this much.

His inside grow hot and cold a second later as he looks through the door viewer to see with whom he would have to deal with.

"Just open the damn door already, I can see your shadow through the bottom crack."

Len's gruff tone is low and a bit muffled through the wood between them.

Barry unlocks the door despite a small voice in his head reminding him that this is not a good idea for so many reasons and that he has to work tomorrow.

"Are you always that fucking slow?" asks the other man in lieu of an actual greeting.

"I-it i-is a-a-alr-ready a-after t-ten," replies Barry with a frown and crosses his arms in front of his chest:" I-I h-have w-work t-tom-m-morrow."

"So, you want me to leave again?"

They glare at each other for a couple of seconds before the noise of someone coming up the stairs reaches them and Barry quickly steps aside to let the other man in.

"Y-you sh-shouldn't r-run a-around l-like th-that," he points out after he has closed the door again:" A-anyb-body c-could s-see you."

He gets an unimpressed look in return.

"I am not wearing my getup, I will be fine."

"P-people c-could still r-recognize y-you."

"This are the Twins, two huge cities, people here have mastered the art of ignoring others."

"Th-that i-is v-v-very c-carel-less."

"Maybe," Len concedes but doesn't seem particularly concerned despite it, which in turn rubs Barry quite the wrong way because he knows the other man's carelessness shouldn't really bother him that much.

"Stop worrying, I know how to stay under the radar."

Len ignores Barry's exasperated huff and instead gives him a crooked smile.

"You're planning on staying there all night?" he asks and nods to where Barry is still standing next to the door.

Barry frown deepens before he suddenly picks up on the delicious smell of food and his gaze inevitably lowers itself to the other man's right hand, where he spots a white plastic bag.

From one second to the next, he realizes how hungry he is and, before he can press the ball of his hand into his stomach, a loud rumble reaches both of their ears. His face turns hot and he shoots the other man a half-hearted glare as if to dare him to make a stupid comment.

Len doesn't. Instead he lifts the bag and nods towards the table that stands between the kitchenette and the couch.

"I grabbed some food," he remarks unnecessarily:" Let's eat before it turns cold."

The urge to protest passes Barry but he ignores it. He hasn't eat anything but a ham-sandwich today as he wouldn't get his next pay till two days from now and his food has run low as it does usually during the end of the month.

They move to the table and Len starts to put out the couple of plastic boxes that hold the food. It smells spicy and seems to be still hot, which means that he has likely picked it up somewhere nearby.

"I've got you the rice with chicken and vegetables," informs him the other man and pushes the white box towards him:" You want the chopsticks or the plastic spoon?"

"Ch-ch-ops-sticks a-are f-f-fine."

His stomach grumbles again and he tries not to show how painfully hard it is to ignore the hunger and not to simply wolf it down. Instead, he starts to eat slowly, careful not to waste any of the rice.

They don't talk while they eat, which is fine with Barry as he hardly wants to concentrate on anything else but his delicious meal. The nausea that has been following him around for the most part of the day ceases and he feels better than he has in days as he picks the last couple of rice corns up with his chopsticks. It is then that he notices that the other man has hardly touched anything of his own dish so far and is instead watching him.

Barry tenses up and halts. He frowns as he meets Len's eyes.

"I-is th-there a-a r-reason y-you're s-staring?"

He is surprised by how sharp it has come out and feels immediately bad for it. His current companion has brought him food after all and hasn't done anything that would really earn his ire.

"S-sorry," he apologizes quietly and turns his gaze back to the now empty plastic box:" A-and th-thank you f-for th-the f-food. I ap-preciate i-it… e-even th-though i-it w-wasn't n-neces-sarry."

Barry expects the other man to point out what an obvious lie this is or maybe make a snide remark but Len lets the opportunity pass by once again. He doesn't understand why the other man is behaving so decent towards him but is grateful for it nonetheless.

"I-I w-will p-pay y-you b-back," he assures him and this does earn him a derisive snort. His cheeks turn uncomfortably hot in response, partly due to embarrassment and partly due to anger.

"I-I w-will," he grits through his teeth and could now kick himself for having accepted the food:" Y-you w-will g-get th-the d-d-damn m-money f-for th-the f-food."

His body has grown stiff with tension and he can't bring himself to look at him.

"If it makes you feel better, then fine, pay me back," tells him Len and while he sounds slightly irked, he still seems much calmer than Barry has expected.

"I-I d-don't n-need ch-charity."

Barry wants to hide away in his bedroom and the other man gone. He swallows around a painful lump that has started to form in his throat and shoots a glare at Len.

"Stop making such a damn fuss over this."

"I-I d-don't-"

"Yes, you are," grunts the other man with a scowl:" This is no pity-party for you, so stop acting so damn defensive. I was in the area and haven't eaten dinner yet, that is all. The fucking planet is not solely rotating around you, Allen."

A tense silence follows and both hold each other's gaze for a long minute before Barry folds and averts his eyes. The feeling of him being an ungrateful idiot returns full force.

"I-I am s-sorry, I… I r-really ap-preciate th-the f-food," he speaks very softly and hates the intense urge to cross his arms in front of his chest in this damn humiliating way that is so much like hugging himself.

Still, he insists on paying the other man back as soon as he has the money, which costs Len a clearly exasperated sigh but he doesn't protest.

"I sh-shouldn't have reacted l-like th-that," Barry goes on slowly, trying to keep his stammer better under control again. He glances at Len uncertainly and adds:" I h-haven't b-been res-sting s-so w-well l-lately."

"No shit," remarks Len with a crooked but not mean smirk:" You look horrible."

Len ignores the dark look that is directed his way and turns to his food to start eating his noodles instead. They fall silent after that, which isn't tense nor uncomfortable surprisingly enough. Barry starts to grow drowsy as he waits for him to finish.

"Is there a reason you are staring at me?"

Len's voice startles him and he realizes that he done just that. He blushes once more and turns away while muttering an apology. Len's answering smirk is palpable enough that Barry doesn't need to see it to know that it is there.

"You look like you are going to drop off any moment now."

"I-I a-am f-fine."

"… right."

Barry frowns and decides to get up seeing that he feels tired enough that he really fears he is going to fall asleep should he not start to move. It would probably be a better idea to ask Len to leave, it is already past eleven and he has to get up again in less than five hours.

"Y-you w-want s-s-some t-tea?" he asks instead.

Len seems surprised about the offer before his look turns sceptical.

"Is beer also an option?"

Seeing that he usually never drinks alcohol when he is alone, Barry shakes his head with an unhappy expression.

"Coffee?" tries Len again and Barry feels once more how an embarrassed flush spreads over his cheeks. Other than three slices of toast, two cans of tuna and a handful of teabags he doesn't have anything edible at home right now.

"N-no," he mutters and doesn't even want to consider how pathetic he has to appear.

"Tea is fine."

His surprised look is meet with a calm expression and Barry isn't sure why but the pressure behind his chest starts to ease again as does the tension in his body.

He gives the other man a tentative smile.

"G-good."

Len starts to pass by about once or twice a week. He usually brings food with him and while Barry knows that he is mostly just humouring him by agreeing to let him pay him back, he is still very glad for the help.

More often than not, his finances are in a very dire state and he has troubles to last with the money that is left after he has paid for his rent without ending up hungry the last couple of days of the month.

They usually don't talk much but play poker or simply share a few beers in a surprisingly comfortable silence. It is nice, having someone else around in his flat and he starts to look forward to the other man's visit, despite knowing how dangerous and reckless of an affair this really is.

"I c-can't ac-cept this."

"Of course you can," disagrees Mrs Ming and doesn't make any move to take the gifts he tries to hand back to her:" Your birthday is coming up next month, take it as my present for you."

She asked Barry to stay after work shortly before he was done with closing and he agreed, thinking that she had invited him for some tea again. He hasn't expected the set of acrylic paints and the sketchbook she has handed him instead.

"B-but-"

"You would do me a great favour."

Mrs Ming steps closer to him and meets his distraught look with a kind smile as she cups his elbow.

"Please, Barry, accept this little gift."

It takes Barry a moment before he has the tumult of emotions enough under control that he wouldn't embarrass himself.

"Th-thank y-you."

His voice is faint and he clears his throat as he averts his gaze. The gratefulness he is currently experiencing is nearly smothering.

"Th-thank you, th-this... th-thank y-you."

"You are welcome, my boy," smiles the old woman and Barry tries to ignore the sadness in her eyes.

He would never forget her this kindness.

"You're getting better."

Len snorts when Barry's only response is to glower at him.

"You are."

"I h-haven't w-won once ag-gainst you s-so f-far," he grumbles and looks sullenly at the cards the other man is shuffling again. By now he has given up any hope that he would ever be able to win a round when it comes to this game.

"Doesn't mean shit," argues Len with a smirk:" I have been playing this since I was old enough to hold a hand and this is usually the game of choice with the others."

Barry frowns but refrains from pointing out that he simply is no good at gambling, in general.

"It would help if you weren't wearing your emotions on your sleeve all the time."

"I am t-trying n-not to."

There had been another reason why he wore a mask that hide most of his face other than for keeping his identity a secret back when he was the Flash. He takes a sip from his tea and frowns at the deck Len has now put down between them.

"You wanna take a break and lick your wounds?"

The glare Barry gives him is icy and the other man chuckles in obvious amusement as he gets up.

"I take a piss, don't mark the cards while I am gone."

"F-funny."

Instead of cheating, he gets himself another cup of tea. Against Len's usual habit, he has turned up on a Saturday tonight. This is a nice change and it means that he doesn't have to worry about losing any sleep because he doesn't have to work tomorrow. It also makes it easier for him to relax and enjoy the company.

"You w-want a c-cup t-too?" he asks when the other man re-enters the living room. Len grunts a nonverbal decline and instead sits back down on the couch. It doesn't come as a surprise as he usually sticks to his beer or coffee so that Barry only fills up his own cup again.

They play another game and he doesn't do much better than with the last one or the one before that. Still, it is nice to have the other man around who is also surprisingly relaxed tonight and unusually inclined to chat a bit.

"I d-don't g-get it, I-I a-am k-keeping m-my f-face t-tot-tally v-vacant and I a-am s-staying r-relaxed. H-how are you a-able t-to t-tell wh-what h-hand I h-have g-gotten?"

Barry groans softly and lets his head drop onto the backrest of his couch. He pulls his legs up to his chest and lays his arm around them loosely, getting into a position he is more comfortable with.

"Keep on kidding yourself."

"Wh-what?"

He turns to the other man in confusion.

"I d-did s-stay exp-pressionl-less."

Len lifts his eyebrows in an incredulous way that causes his mood to deteriorate immediately.

"No, you didn't. You tried but failed rather impressively."

"I d-didn't!"

"You are like an open book," he smirks while collecting the cards to put them away:" Some can't help it."

Not sure whether he should bother to be insulted by this comment or not, Barry settles with wrinkling his nose and giving Len a half-hearted glare. It isn't as if he hasn't known from the beginning that he wouldn't be any good because of this exact reason.

Feeling a bit tired, Barry changes his position so that his side is resting against the backrest with his cheek resting on top of it. He watches the other man quietly as he puts the cards back into the box.

Len gets himself another beer and offers Barry to grab him one as well which he accepts.

"You have anything planned next Saturday?"

It is an odd question seeing that he knows quite well that Barry hardly ever leaves his flat for anything else than work. He shakes his head quietly and pulls his legs a bit closer.

"We are having a poker night," explains Len:" If you want, you can drop by."

"Y-you and th-the oth-ther R-Rogues?"

Barry hasn't been sure what to expect but he definitely wasn't this.

"Yeah," agrees Len and something changes in the way he watches him. He suddenly seems a bit hostile which causes Barry to tense up involuntarily.

"Is there a problem with that?"

"I-I… you r-really th-think th-this i-is a g-good idea?"

"Why not?"

The aggression has mostly left his voice again and the Len eyes him with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation instead.

"Th-they... w-we aren't exact-tly…"

Nervously, he bites his bottom lips and shrugs, not really willing to go into this.

"You liked them well enough before you were released," reminds him Len and takes another swig of his beer.

"I-it i-is n-not th-that."

His fingers have started to dig painfully in his shins and Barry forces himself to relax a bit again.

"Don't worry your damn head off all the time about something that was."

Their eyes meet and the other man goes on.

"They won't cause you any trouble but you don't have to come. It is just an offer."

"No, I w-would l-like t-to c-come."

Despite not really being sure how to feel about the idea of mingling with the group of criminals again, he knows that they usually don't invite other people along and the notion that Len actually wants him to come eases his concern a bit. It is also nice to look forward to spend an evening outside of his own flat.

"Good, Sam will pick you up around six."

"W-we aren't m-meeting at y-your p-lace?"

Len snorts and tells him that they did that once and that this is not happening again. He doesn't go into any details and Barry somehow has the inkling that he probably doesn't want to know anyway.

"We meet at our current bolthole."

"Y-your h-hideout?"

He frowns and eyes the other man doubtfully.

"I d-don't kn-know i-if th-that is s-such a g-good i-idea."

"Why? I doubt you gonna go and tattle to some capes about it," scoffs Len. His face becomes sombre again when he notices Barry's hurt expression.

"Look-"

"I-I w-will c-come," he says and tries to will the itching of his eyes away while he keeps his gaze on the small couch table next to him.

"C-could y-you l-leave n-now, p-please, I-I am r-rather t-t-tired."

The other man does so after a long moment, without another word.

Barry meets a young woman who lives also in his apartment complex on the first floor. Her bag of groceries has broken and spilled its content all over the stairs. He gets her another one from his flat.

They talk a bit as he helps her carrying everything up to her flat and he learns that her name is Mary.

She doesn't seem at all faced by his stammer and despite his initial reluctance, he accepts when she invites him over for some coffee after they arrive at her doorstep.

They talk for a while and Barry learns that she has already been living here for more than two years. It doesn't really surprise him that they haven't crossed each other so far, seeing that most tenants prefer to stay to themselves and he is hardly an exception.

Mary invites him over for dinner the following week and he accepts.


	3. (Not) Everybody Loves Poker

**MARCH 1****st**** year**

"Bloody hell, mate, just put the damn fiver down already!"

"Don't stress me!"

"Just put the fucking money down or fold, Trickster!"

"Let me think!"

"You have been thinking for the last three minutes, idiot."

"And you have an ugly mug!"

Mick sneers and looks about ready to hurl his still nearly full bottle of beer across the table into James face.

"Just fold," advises Sam while shuffling the cards in his hand in a very bored manner:" Your hand sucks anyway."

"What the hell!? You are cheating! You have been looking into my cards!"

The blond man who, like the other Rogues, isn't wearing his costume but normal clothes, presses his cards protectively against his chest.

"You damn cheat!"

"For fuck's sake, Scudder," grunts Mick and glares at the other man opposite to him:" I will deck you if you have peeped into my damn cards again."

"I haven't," replies Sam and still sounds as bored as before.

"Whose turn is it?"

Len, who left the room to grab another beer, takes his seat next to Barry again and frowns when he realizes that the game doesn't seem to have progressed at all.

"Still Trickster's," grumbles Marco who throws the man in question a dirty and annoyed look:" Por amor de Deus, just go on with it already!"

"Fine! You are all a bunch of mean and impatient idiots! I fold!"

A collective groan of relief fills the round while James gets up and stomps out the room.

"Por fim," mutters the Latin and turns to Hartley who gives him a rather impressively dark look just now that causes him to lift one eyebrow:" What? If he is too stupid to play, he shouldn't."

"You are an arsehole."

"Just go on with it and play, Piper," grouses Mick and rubs his eyes in exasperation.

Hartley does. He throws another five dollars at the stack and makes a face as if he has just bitten into a lemon.

"Bloody hell, that took forever."

Digger throws another bill at the growing heap of money in the centre of the table before leaning back with a heavy sigh. Barry doesn't miss how he tries to peer into his cards and quickly pulls them out of his sight.

"Don't bother, mate, you poker face says more than enough," tells him the Australian and ignores his glare.

"Just fold," mutters Len next to him and Barry flushes in embarrassment.

"F-f-fold."

"You suck at this game," remarks Mick with a smirk while Len throws another five dollar note on the stash. He refrains from commenting and reminds himself that, at least this way, he isn't going to lose any more of the money that hasn't been his to begin with. Hopefully, Len wouldn't be too mad for the forty-three dollars he has cost him so far. He still could kick himself for agreeing to this and accepting the other man's offer in the first place. It would take him forever to pay him back.

"Maybe he just hasn't the right motivation," remarks the blond woman opposite to him and Barry turns his attention towards her with a sinking feeling. Lisa eyes him with a mixture of disdain and dislike.

"Like pictures of little-"

"Shut your mouth, Lisa," interrupts Len in a sharp tone and both siblings proceed glaring at each other for a long moment before she gives him one last dirty look and turns towards Roscoe.

A moment of uncomfortable silence follows before the game proceeds again.

"I-I a-am g-going t-to g-get s-some f-fresh a-air," murmurs Barry quietly and gets up before Len can say anything.

Seeing that he doesn't have the first idea where he actually is and which way would lead out of this building, he makes do with bringing some distance between himself and the room with the others.

Sam picked him up shortly after six and brought him to wherever this place is. It seems to be rather big and rundown but the electricity is working and so is the heating. This is a very fortunate thing he is quite glad for seeing that the winter has come back with a vengeance just a couple of days ago.

The corridor is empty and dark and while he doubts that it has been a good idea to leave the others like that as he has no idea in what condition this building, he is glad for a small break from all the noise of the Rogues. Aside from that, he is sure that Len would have told him if it was really dangerous for him to wander around alone. It doesn't really look all that bad either, from what he can say in the little light he has.

From the look of the room they are playing in, he has quickly picked up that they are in a basement, which isn't really a surprise seeing that this is probably the safest place for criminals to hide as it wouldn't alert anybody around of their presence that easily. This also means, he would have to go upstairs should he really want to get out.

Barry decides against it, though, and picks one of the rooms that is close to the staircase instead. It is dark and dusty and doesn't seem like one that is currently occupied by the Rogues. There is a smaller window close to the low ceiling and he opens it to let some fresh air in. He keeps the lights off.

It is snowing again, which isn't that uncommon for the beginning of March but makes it rather uncomfortable for people like him whose landlords have already cut the heating or who have to use the public traffic to go to work.

Still, he likes it in moments like this, when he can watch the snow fall quietly and glister in the shine of a nearby streetlamp. It is calming.

Barry looks around for something that could serve as a seat and decides that one of the old boxes will do after he has examined it for its sturdiness. He wipes the thick layer of dust off with a tissue and sits down on it.

Wherever and whatever this place is, it does has thick and dense walls as he can't hear anything from the other men, which suits him just fine. The quietness is relaxing and he is glad that he is able to take a little breather.

Against his nagging worries, the evening hasn't been anything close to a catastrophe so far. The other men have accepted his presence without a fuss, even though most of them preferred to stay clear of him and, so far, only Hartley and James really talked to him.

It is understandable, as his stammer has been really bad tonight and his tension has probably come off him in waves. Still, nothing bad has happened other than for the occasional digs from Lisa, who has disliked him from the very start. It is not hard to understand why, especially with her jabs about his reportedly preference for young boys.

This caught him off-guard at first and hasn't particularly helped him to relax. He hasn't expected to be confronted with this damn allegations again and it still is unsettling to think that Len's sister really believes this.

Barry knows that Len doesn't but he can't say for sure whether this is also true for the other Rogues. It is disconcerting, he has always assumed that they don't. They are criminals but he has thought that even they wouldn't want someone around who is accused of Hebephilia.

He sighs and tiredly rubs his forehead as the light headache that has already been following him around since this morning has started to get worse.

The silence of the room is broken when the door is opened and Barry freezes up immediately.

"Hey," greets Hartley and the fear that has briefly grabbed his inside eases away again. He looks towards the other man who is mostly in shadows due to the dim light and smiles slightly.

"H-hey."

"You found yourself a cosy spot."

Barry snorts softly but stays otherwise quiet. He hasn't really expected anybody to come looking for him and while he likes to have gotten away from the crowded place and the others, the notion that Hartley has done so is nice.

After a brief silence, he can hear the other man move over to him. He offers him a tissue to get rid of the dust on the box that has been stored about a foot next to his, which the ginger accepts with a grateful nod.

"S-sorry, y-you d-didn't n-need t-to c-c-come l-look-king f-for m-me."

"It's fine, I wanted to take a break form that bunch of morons anyway," explains Hartley and sits down:" Sam won the last round. That jerk has been cheating for sure, everybody knows that but we can't prove it, so that there is a little bit too much hostility in the air for my taste right now."

"Th-there a-are n-no m-mirrors a-around," remarks Barry, who also quickly realized that the other man was cheating quite spectacularly and, so far, has won three of the four games.

Hartley hums in agreement but points out that Sam doesn't need his gadgets to cheat. Barry agrees with a soft hum.

"It's pretty freezing in here."

"I w-wanted s-some f-fresh a-air, I-I h-hope i-it is alr-right th-that I-I h-have op-pened th-the w-w-window."

"Sure," chuckles Hartley and turns his gaze towards it:" We are in a pretty deserted area out here."

A gush of wind blows into the room and with it some of the falling snow. The cool air is biting but refreshing and Barry takes a deep breath.

They sit together quietly for the next minutes and he listens to the sound of the storm outside which seems to get stronger. It is a good thing that he wouldn't have to use any public traffic to get home tonight.

"You want to grab a snack?"

Barry turns to Hartley. He knows that the other man means well and he appreciates his kindness but neither the notion of being babysat nor of being a bother sits well with him.

"Y-you r-really d-don't h-have t-to l-look a-after m-me. Y-you p-probably h-have b-better th-things to do."

"I don't," disagrees Hartley easily:" And I am hungry, so let's go to the kitchen."

The ginger gives him an encouraging smile before he gets up to close the window.

"I think we still have some left-over pizza from lunch."

Barry is about to protest but the notion to keep on sitting here all by himself isn't that alluring anymore all of a sudden. Thus he agrees and follows the other man out of the room.

Like the rest of the hideout, the makeshift kitchen is also located in the basement. Barry wonders how big this place actually is and guesses that it probably belongs to an old apartment complex, of which there are quite a few abandoned ones at the outskirts of Keystone.

"Here."

Hartley puts a plate with two slices of Pepperoni pizza in front of him. He has heated it up in the microwave beforehand and it smells delicious.

"Th-thanks," he accepts the food gladly.

"You want a beer?" Hartley grab one from the fridge that is mostly filled with just that and old take-out boxes and shows it to him.

"N-no, th-thanks, I h-have h-had en-nough for t-tonight."

The amused look he receives in answer lets him know that three bottles are not really an amount that usually classifies as enough in this circle.

"If you don't like beer, we also have other stuff," offers the younger man and adds quickly:" But don't tell the others, they are such a pain to keep from my personal stash."

"I w-won't," assures Barry with a chuckle:" B-but n-no th-thanks, I d-don't r-really l-like alc-cohol th-that m-much."

Hartley accepts that and closes the fridge. He takes the seat opposite to him on the small table that has been placed in here and starts to eat his meal as well.

"It's good to see you again."

These words catch him by surprise and he turns his look to the other man, not sure how to respond. He settles on an uncertain smile.

"Y-yes, it h-has b-been a w-w-while."

"Over half a year," agrees Hartley:" Not that I am not glad that you haven't been around during my last trip to the Heights."

The mention of the prison causes Barry's appetite to dwindle and he sets the piece of pizza back on the plate with a reluctant nod.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bring that fucking place up. I am an idiot."

It is audible that Hartley really feels bad about it, which helps the feeling of dread that has overcome him to cease a bit again.

"I-it i-is o-ok-kay, I-I a-am f-fine."

The doubtful look the other man gives him says more that clearly that he doesn't believe him but he is nice enough to let it rest.

"So, how have you liked your first poker night with us so far?"

He sounds cheerful again and is obviously forcing it a bit. It is still a nice effort and sets Barry more at easy.

"I-it w-was inter-resting," he says slowly, thinking back of the last hours and how it has been both, fun and frightening at the same time. Being amid them has been quite intimidating at first. It didn't exactly help that they tended to get very loud at times but it has still been a surprisingly not awful experience so far. It has not even come close to what he initially feared it to be like.

"A very diplomatic answer," remarks Hartley with an amused smile and doesn't seem the least bit offended.

"I l-liked it, excep-pt f-for a-all th-the y-yelling a-and c-c-cursing."

"Well, that comes with the package."

Barry chuckles and is about to get up to grab himself a glass of water when a familiar and very sullen sounding voice comes from the open door.

"Did they kick you out as well?"

"They didn't kick you out, James," reminds Hartley the other Rogue who is still hovering at the doorway. It earns him a very dark glare.

"They made me quit!"

"You have quit on your on."

"They harassed me till I did," insists the blond and crosses his arms in front of his chest in a very stubborn manner:" I just needed another second."

Hartley sighs but doesn't seem in the mood for an argument as he instead points out that there is still some pizza left if he wants some. It is the right thing to say as it immediately lifts James' mood.

"So, why are you two not playing with those morons anymore? Too much of… them?"

The morose way in which the younger man is saying this causes Barry to laugh and he notices how Hartley rolls his eyes over it but does smile as well.

"N-nah, I j-just n-needed s-some f-fresh air."

"In the kitchen?" asks James in an incredulous tone as he waits for the microwave to finish heating his food up. He briefly looks around with a frown as if he has missed something before he focuses back on him with squinted eyes:" Did Lisa say something mean again?"

Taken aback by this question, Barry stays quiet and stares at the other man in surprise. It seems that this is enough of an answer to James as he scowls slightly and leans back against the counter.

"Don't mind her, she is just all pissy because Len and Roscoe had a huge fight the other day and as she is twirly-boy's girlfriend. She takes this shit pretty personal," explains the other blond which causes Hartley to gives him an annoyed look. He is obviously not happy about James bringing this up. Still, he agrees with him after a moment.

"Lisa usually isn't like that. She is just angry at her brother, so don't take what she says personal."

"Sh-she th-thinks I-I…"

Barry stops himself and hates how ashamed he feels over something he hasn't done.

"She probably doesn't," disagrees Hartley:" She knows that Len likes you and you have the bad luck that she seems to have chosen you to get back to him."

"Yeah," agrees James and shrugs:" They have a pretty complicated sibling-relationship."

They move their conversation to another topic after this, for which Barry is quite grateful as he isn't really comfortable talking about any of this.

Like during his time in the Heights, it is easy for him to be around both of the younger men and they end up playing Crazy Eights, which is a game James is surprisingly good at.

"You really don't have it with card games, do you?" asks Hartley after their third game, which Barry lost once again.

"Yeah, you suck," agrees James and gasps when the criminal next to him digs his elbow in his ribs in answer.

"I-I am u-usually n-not m-much of a p-player," Barry explains with a shrug and starts to shuffle the cards again. It is already late, after eleven and he should probably go and get Sam to bring him back to his flat before the man got too drunk to do so but he enjoys the company and not being alone at home for once.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see someone appear at the entrance of the kitchen and turns towards it. He is a bit surprised to see Len standing there, watching him.

"You've decided to play a game you are good at?" asks the other man with a slight smirk as he makes his way over to them.

"Nah, he sucks at it too."

James throws Hartley a dark look when he gets another elbow in his ribs and mutters that it is true.

"Mind me if I join?"

Barry smiles and is about to agree when the other blond cuts him off.

"You sure? You hate Crazy eights," reminds James with lifted eyebrows:" You lose at it, like, always."

The annoyed glare Len shoots the other Rogue causes James to duck his head and shut up.

"Join away. The more the merrier or so they say."

Hartley gives his older colleague a slight amused smile which causes Len to frown in irritation but gets him to take his scowl off James and to sit down. Barry, who has watches this brief exchanges quietly, isn't sure what to make of it but decides that he is already too tired to worry about it and instead starts to deal out.

The game runs smoothly and while the Len doesn't talk much, it isn't uncomfortable to have him close-by. Besides, both Hartley and James don't pay their new addition to the round too much mind and keep involving him in their conversations.

It is close to two in the morning when Barry decides that he really has to call it a night and go home. He feels exhausted but unusually loose and happy for the first time in a very long while.

His good mood dims a bit, though, when he notices that Sam isn't around anymore after they have gotten back to the room with the others.

Neither are Lisa or Roscoe, much to Barry's relief and he picks up on how relaxed the mood is between Mick, Marco and Digger who seem pleasantly buzzed and currently on another game of poker.

Much to his worry and Len's annoyance, it turns out that Sam has left about an hour ago.

"Lisa wanted him to get her and Roscoe to the Saloon and probably got stuck there," explains Marco as he studies his cards and adds with a misgiving grimace," Bastardo has enough money to buy the fucking bar now, anyway."

"Fucking great," grunts Len before he turns to Barry and considers him quietly for a second:" Can't get you back the way you came, it seems."

"Great, that is Scudders for you," grouses Hartley who has joined them on their way while James went up to his room after they had left the kitchen.

"Don't get you panties in a bunch, mate. It's not even snowing anymore."

"Yeah, because you would want to go in front of the door at this weather," scoffs Mick with a smirk, which gets him the bird from the Australian.

"You can stay tonight, we have enough room."

Barry, who has just half listened to the other men so far, turns to Len with a surprised and clearly unhappy look.

"Right," remarks Len drily before he sighs in annoyance:" That means it will be the bus."

"The next bus stop is nearly twenty minutes away."

Hartley doesn't like this idea very much and gives Barry a concerned once over.

"You didn't even come with a coat, did you?"

"You are such a fucking clucking hen, mate," snorts Digger and returns the redheads irritated scowl with a grin that is all teeth.

"That would be Piper for you," mocks Marco before he gets up and announces that he will take a piss before leaving, obviously not all that concerned by Barry's little predicament.

"Do you know how to get to your flat from here?"

Len meets his glance and does seem to have expected it when he answers that he doesn't as he tells him to stay put.

"I will grab you something to put on and take you there."

"Y-you d-don't h-h-have t-to," Barry protest feebly but the other man doesn't even bother to reply.

This is just perfect, he thinks bitterly and while he doesn't like any of this, he also knows that it would be a very stupid idea to try and get back to his apartment complex on his own, especially in a weather like this. He doesn't even have the slightest idea where he is right now to begin with. Well, other than that it is probably somewhere at the outskirts of one of the gems.

"You could stay here, it really wouldn't be a problem," points Hartley out but doesn't persist after Barry declined again.

Ten minutes later, he follows Len through a dark factory site towards one of the side-streets that would lead them to a bus stop where a nightline is still passing by this late and could take them inside Keystone City. They walk in silence, which doesn't really bother him, as he doesn't fell up to having a chat right now. It is cold and the snow is high enough that it is bothersome to move forward. The black parker he got from the other man is keeping the biting cold away from him at least but it still can't keep him to silently curse Sam for simply taking off like that.

It takes them about thirty minutes to the bus stop, it is mostly due to him as he has growing difficulties to go on in the cold weather with his joints working up worse with every step he takes. By now they are in a more inhabited area again and it eases the knot in his stomach a bit to have street lights around that make it easier to see where they move along and cars passing by.

Seeing that they are at the outer skirts of the city' borders, it is unusually calm, even for half past three in the morning. Barry doesn't doubt that the streets would start to fill up with cars, even this early, as soon as they come closer to the city centre, though.

On their way to his flat, they need to change the bus two time and, as if he has been jinxed, they have to wait for each one at least fifteen minutes, so that it is already close to six when they finally arrive in front of his apartment building.

It starts snowing again, which doesn't bother him very much now that he is nearly at home, but he doesn't like the thought that Len would have to make it all the way back to the hideout with worsening weather and a slowly awaking city around him. He may not wear his infamous light blue parker, but it still would be a risk for him.

"Y-you w-want t-to st-stay t-till S-Sam c-can p-pick y-you up?" asks Barry a bit hesitantly after they have reached the steps that lead up to the entrance to the building:" Y-you c-can s-sleep o-on th-the c-couch."

Len seems honestly surprised about this offer but agrees.

"Okay, as long as I get out of this shit weather."

"Y-you d-don't l-like s-snow?"

The notion that the other man, who is actually calling himself Captain Cold, wouldn't like winter is both odd and funny and the dark sullen look he receives in return makes it somehow even more so. Maybe it is because he is exhausted and tired but he can't stop himself from laughing.

"R-really? B-but th-the p-paker-"

"Shut up and just open the damn door."

He does so, grinning slightly.

His flat is dark and cold without the heater working as they enter. Barry goes and takes a quick shower after getting the spare pillow and bedding for Len from his bedroom. His skin is bright and prickles in a familiar sensation when he leaves the showers again and he feels much more relaxed. While the presence of the Rogues hasn't exactly been bad, it has been difficult to bear to have that many men around him that close.

When he re-enters the living room again, Len is already resting on the couch. For second, Barry thinks that he may has fallen asleep during his stay in the bathroom but then he watches how the other man opens his eyes and looks over to him.

"You head to bed?"

"Y-yeah," he answers and licks his lips, suddenly nervous. Len keeps his gaze on him, seemingly feeling that he wants to say more.

"Th-thanks," starts Barry and stops briefly as he has to clear his throat before he goes on with a slight flush:" It w-was a-a r-really n-nice n-night, I-I… I ap-p-preciate i-it, v-v-very m-much."

Not waiting to give his guest the option to answer, he swiftly turns around and hurries to his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

"S-stupid," he mutters to himself as he groggily lays down and buried his face into his pillow.

Despite his agitated state of mind, it doesn't take him long at all to drift off.


	4. Romanian Hot Chocolate

"That smells amazing."

Barry looks up from the paper he is currently reading and turns to Mary, who has crouched down and is now watching the lasagne baking through the stove window. He smiles.

"Th-thanks, I hope, you w-w-will l-like it t-too."

They are cooking dinner in Mary's apartment which has an actual small kitchen instead of just a kitchenette.

The young woman with the short curly black hairs gets up and assures him that she has no doubt that she will.

"It doesn't just smell amazing," she explains with a wink as she makes her way over to him where he is sitting at the table:" It looks delicious too."

He doesn't mind when she sits down next to him. Women usually don't hold the same source of discomfort for him and Mary's calm and friendly nature makes it especially easy to stay relaxed in her presence.

"Is there anything interesting to read about?"

She nods towards the paper in front of him and peeks at it curiously.

"N-not r-really but I c-can l-leave it h-here and y-you c-can r-read it l-later."

"No, that is alright," Mary declines and Barry picks up on the odd look she gives the paper and how she frowns slightly for a moment before she turns back to him:" Do you mind if I put on some music?"

"Sure."

The lasagne turns out really nicely and Barry can't help but preen a bit when his friend keep on complimenting him on how good it is.

"You should definitely be a cook, not a salesman," she declares after she took her second helping:" You are wasting your talent."

Barry smiles but changes the topic.

"I-if you l-like it s-so much, y-you c-can k-keep the l-leftovers."

"Don't be silly, we share. We both prepared it, after all. Well, you more so than I but I helped and it was our teamwork that made this amazing lasagne possible."

He chuckles and agrees. The notion that he would have some of it left for tomorrow's dinner is quite nice.

Mary tells him about a movie, she has seen the other day, a science fiction one about a crew who was exploring another planet and got stuck on it due to a line of accidents. The young women loves such adventurous stories and judging by what she is saying she seems to be and enthusiastic theatre visitor.

Barry has never really been a movie person, he likes them well enough but books are more his thing. Still, he likes to listen to her tell him about the different stories as it has turned out that she is quite a talented narrator, especially as she has a very calm and rather low voice for a woman. It also doesn't hurt that he too likes everything that has to do with science fiction.

The last couple of times they have met, they have mostly spent talking about their hobbies and other interests, not really going into detail about their lives in general. She obviously doesn't really want to talk about her private life and he can respect it. Though, he told her that he is working as a salesman in a small grocery store in passing shortly after meeting her. Mary, on the other hand, hasn't told him what her job is, so far, but he is pretty sure he has picked up on it by now, anyway.

"Oh my god, I am so stuffed! I won't be able to fit into my jeans tomorrow," she laughs after finishing her third helping and rubs her slightly bulged belly while doing so. She has a surprisingly big appetite for such a small person but it is nice to have his cooking being appreciated.

They move to her couch, which is a bit smaller than his and is covered by a thick cosy dark purple blanket that causes him to feel rather drowsy after a couple of minutes.

"It is from a friend of mine," she tells him after he commented on how nice it feels. A tentative smile on her lips as she goes on:" He got it for me as a farewell gift when I left my home."

"Y-you a-aren't f-from ar-round here?"

Mary gives him an honestly surprised look before she laughs and shakes her head in negation. Barry can't help but feel a bit embarrassed but when the young woman picks up on his uncomfortable expression, she apologizes and explains that it is just always odd when people ask her this.

"I am from a very small village in Romania."

"R-really? Y-you d-don't have any a-accent."

Barry tries to think if he has ever picked up on something that would indicate that she isn't a native English speaker by the way she talks but he is pretty sure she never sounded like someone who hasn't been born and raised here.

"Yes, I get this a lot," she nods and picks up her glass of coke to take a sip before she goes on:" I am probably just good with languages."

"Y-you've l-learned it in s-school?"

Again, she laughs as if he has said something really funny but the slight annoyance he feels quickly vanishes after what she says next.

"I never went to school. You see, I have eight siblings and both of my parents are simple farmers with hardly any land to work on. We never had the money for this, not even Alin, my oldest brother, and he is the brightest person I have ever met."

Somehow, this damps his good mood. He may not be up to date on what is going on in the world at large but he is aware of the fact that Romania is one of the poorest countries in Europe. Mary most likely hasn't had an easy life.

"Don't make such a long face," she tells him and is smiling in this warm way of hers once again:" I may not have been able to get the same education as people in this country do but I am still very happy and thankful for the life I have now. I have a roof over my head, money to buy food and even a bit extra to send to my family. I am a very blessed person."

Barry nods quietly, both impressed and humbled by the young woman. It has to be hard to live so far away from home even if she is able to make a better living for herself here.

"D-do you h-have any r-relat-tives here?"

"I had one, my uncle, but he died a year ago."

"I-I a-am s-s-sorry."

"It is okay, I am alright again," she assures him and again asks him to not look so sad.

"You know, I may have been quite alone at first but I am not anymore. I have friends now and I am able to write to my family and even talk to them every other week. I am very happy with my life."

Mary gets up and proclaims that hot chocolate is the best way to lift one's mood and that Barry is definitely in need of some right now. Seeing that he doesn't want to exploit her generosity and partly also because he still feels much to full to think of taking anything to him right now, not even something to drink, Barry tries to refuse but she doesn't listen.

"I make an excellent hot chocolate if I may say so myself," she tells him with an amused twinkle in her eyes while he watches her from his spot on the couch:" It can cure the sick and make the sad ones happy."

Barry snorts softly when hearing this claim but decides against pointing out that this is quite unlikely. After all, the uncomfortable feeling in his chest has already eased a bit.

It doesn't take long till the whole flat is filled with the warm and calming smell of freshly prepared hot chocolate and, while he still feels stuffed, he does accept the mug she offers him a couple of minutes later. The warmth alone is worth it and he cradles it close to his chest.

"The secret is real chocolate, not that powder nonsense they sell you in every supermarket," explains Mary after she has taken the spot next to him once more and sips with a delighted expression on the hot beverage:" And real milk, no water. My nana made us hot chocolate every year for All Soul's Day and Christmas and she taught me how to. You will never catch me with those bagged stuff you just pour hot water over."

A rather dark frown appears on her face and she mutters something in a language he can't understand and which is most likely Romanian. Her clear indignation over something like instant hot chocolate is quite endearing and Barry lets his hand drop to his lap and his head fall slightly back, so that it rests against the backrest. He feels drowsy and calm and he listens to Mary quietly when she tells him a bit about her family after he has asked her about them.

Barry briefly thinks that it is a pity that those serene and nice moments like this one can never last but brushes this notion off and instead concentrates on enjoying it.

Barry 40th birthday is a cool and cloudy Sunday and spends the majority of it in his bed, sleeping the day away as he feels a bit under the weather since the beginning of the week.

Mrs Ming has invited him to stay over to dinner yesterday after work and was kind enough to give him the left-overs of the very delicious longevity noodles. He eats them for lunch after leaving his bed around two pm and spends some time sketching a bit on his couch after that.

Nobody passes by, which doesn't come as a surprise as Len and the others are planning something and he hasn't seen much of him since the end of last week. He is rather glad for the peace and quiet, as it probably would just mean bad news for him if anybody else should turn up in front of his door.

Around half past six, a knock cuts through the silence in his flat, though, but is initial apprehension quickly vanishes when it turns out to be Mary who has some cake with her as well as a thermos jug with hot tea.

They end up playing some Rummy and talking for the next couple of hours. Barry falls asleep sometime around ten and Mary puts a blanket over him and lets herself out afterwards.

The chiming of the entrance door being opened causes Barry to turn to it from the counter where he is currently going over the list of things he has to re-order. It is nearly nine pm and it has been a very quiet last two hours so far with only one customer passing by for some after work grocery shopping.

Mrs Ming has gone upstairs already and it is left to Barry to close up the shop, which has become common-place over the last couple of months. He doesn't mind helping the nice old woman that way but it makes him feel a bit uneasy at times when there is nobody else around in the evening, seeing that the store has its place in the Keys.

Thus, he can't help but tense up for a second as his gaze travels to the entrance where his latest and probably last customer for tonight has just entered. His eyes grow slightly wide when he recognizes the person who is briefly looking around the store before his attention sets on him as well.

A familiar half smile appears on the other man's face and he is obviously amused by how caught off-guard Barry is by his appearance.

"Nice store," says Len in lieu of a greeting as he makes his way over to the counter where Barry is still staring at him in a mixture of disbelief and worry.

"Wh-what a-are y-you d-doing here?" he asked and can't help himself but throw a nervous glance over his friend's shoulder through the glass door even though he police isn't exactly a common visitor of this part of the twins.

"Relax," grunts Len slightly annoyed:" I know this part of the city better than the back of my hand, I am not stupid enough to get caught by any cop who is unlucky enough to end up here."

"Y-you p-pulled a j-job j-just t-two d-days ago," reminds Barry with a frown and can't help the slight anger that walls up in his chest again at that notion. He pushes it away, though, seeing that he has known all along who the other man and the other Rogues. This additional guilt is just something else he would have to learn to deal with if he wants to stay in contact with them.

"Stop worrying your damn head off."

Len's utter lack of concern about him being here in a public place in plain sight is both, infuriating and slightly reassuring. He may be a lot of things but he is definitely not stupid and as his history can tell, he usually is pretty good at evading being put into prison.

"The signs says you are closing at nine," says Len and nods towards the entrance door:" Which means you are already doing overtime."

Surprised, Barry turns to the clock on the wall behind him and he realizes that it really is already shortly after nine.

Len waits while he locks the door and proceeds with the rest of the closing. They don't really talk much and the other man busies himself reading one of the papers at the counter while Barry swiftly sweeps the floor. The weather is still rather cool and the rain hasn't stopped for the majority of the week, so that it was inevitable that the customers drag the dirt of the streets inside and make a mess for him to clean up every evening.

It doesn't take long for Barry to finish and about fifteen minutes later, he leads Len out through the backdoor. It leads to a small narrow backstreet where the trash container are placed.

"Shit weather," grumbles his friend when they step out into the rain that has picked up once again. It seems that Len doesn't like bad weather in general that much, no rain and definitely no snow, which is still a bid of an odd realisation to Barry, seeing what he has picked as his alter ego.

With a soft click, the umbrella he has brought with himself to work opens and he steps a bit closer to the other man so that it can cover both of them as he lifts it over their heads.

"I-it is l-like th-this s-since T-Tuesday," reminds Barry in a slightly amused tone:" You c-could h-have b-brought one of th-these as w-well."

"They are inconvenient like hell."

Barry lifts an eyebrow at this in slight incredulity while Len shoots a glares at the umbrella above them.

"Th-they k-keep you d-dry," he points out.

Len wrinkles his nose at him in a slightly annoyed way before he snorts.

"Usually the parker does this job just fine-"

The sound of a car reaches them before its lights briefly illuminate the otherwise very dark back alley as it passes by. They are back in the shadows just a second later but Barry can't help himself but grow tense as he listens how the sound of the car grow faint again.

Suddenly, the notion of being seen with a wanted criminal and so close to his working place causes him to feel extremely uneasy. So far, nobody from his former life has tried to contact him and there are no signs that anybody is keeping a tap on him but he isn't stupid. He is a liability to his former colleagues as long as he lives and he knows that if one of them would spot him with someone like the Rogues, it could send out a very wrong idea and bring him a lot of problems he really doesn't need.

"Wh-what a-are you d-doing h-here, L-Len?"

The other man, who has watches the street with a slightly grim look for the last minute or so, turns back to him. His frown is the only sign that he has picked up on the strained quality of Barry's voice.

For a long moment, he doesn't replay and Barry grows more and more nervous while the patter of the rain hitting his umbrella and the world around them grows stronger.

"I was in the area and you've told me a while ago that you are working here."

He shrugs and both fall silent again.

"Y-you kn-know th-that it c-could m-mean a l-lot o-of t-trouble if th-the w-wrong p-people s-spot us," Barry says in a very quiet tone and he hates how this has become his life:" F-for b-both of us."

"Yeah, I know."

Len's expression has turned very grim and Barry isn't sure whether he is angry at him for bringing this up or not.

"The capes are busy with some shit going on in San Francisco, also both Flashes."

"Wh-what?" asks Barry in concern:" Wh-what h-has h-happened? Wh-what is g-going o-on?"

"No idea, your guess is as good as mine," explains the other man with another shrug:" It has been all over the news for the last three hours but they don't know shit either."

There is no television in Mrs Ming's store and Barry has turned the radio off already shortly after noon as there hasn't been much but static because of the bad reception anyway.

"I am really starting to get sick of standing out here," interrupts Len his thoughts and meets his worried gaze with an irritated one:" You wanna keep standing here and strike roots while worrying about guys who don't give a shit about you, be my guest, but I am going look for someplace drier."

The urge to hit the other man with his umbrella is suddenly nearly overwhelmingly strong and Barry feels a mixture of anger and shame overcome him which in turn causes his throat to close up before he is able to respond anything. Frustrated and hurt, he shoves the umbrella towards Len, who is still glaring at him and turns around to leave the alley.

If that bastard is so damn troubled by the weather, he can make much more use of it than Barry does.

The rain is cold and grows even colder now that it hits him freely but he stubbornly ignores it along with the annoying itching of his eyes or the slightly sickening way his stomach has started to cramp up.

Right now, he really hates him and himself even more for allowing him into his life at all. That stupid, stubborn arse can go jump in a lake as far as he cares.

As if to top this whole damn situation off, a bright flash brightens the sky above him before the nearly deafening sound of cracking thunder rolls over the city. This is just plain perfect.

A hand grabs his upper arm the next second and brings him to a forced halt. This causes an all too familiar panic to flash through him and he cries out in surprise and fear before he can stop himself. Barry knows where he is, he knows that the person who has grabbed him is Len but he can't help it as the sudden contact is still so damn unsettling. He tries to break away and it comes with an extreme relief when he is let to do so.

Quickly, he brings some additional space between himself and the other man before he turns to face him again. There is another flash of lightening and another thunder but he hardly notices it as he watches Len warily. A familiar unrest has set into his limbs again and he hates how he is just standing still and unable to really do anything at all to protect himself should he decide to attack him now.

Len's face gives nothing away as he studies him silently and this causes Barry to feel even more uneasy.

"Look, let's just get out of this fucking rain, okay?"

This request catches Barry off-guard as he may not have been sure about what to expect from the other man but it surely hasn't been this. He doesn't answer immediately and Len doesn't press him. Right now, he isn't sure if it would be a good idea for him to have anybody else around. He feels shaken and upset and he doesn't want to make a complete fool of himself by accident.

"Ok-kay."

His voice sounds hoarse as he answers and he feels a heavy resignation fill his stomach when he realizes once more that he wants to have Len around, despite of what has just happened. He such an idiot.

Len nods and steps closer to him as if he was trying not to frighten him away again. Barry mutters a thanks when he lifts the umbrella above their heads and quietly follows him when he leads him to his familiar bus stop through the heavy rain.


	5. Late Night Small Talk On A Fire Escape

Early April, 1st year

The night air feels pleasantly cool on his face and no longer holds the uncomfortable bite of the past months as Barry makes his way over to his apartment building from where he has just exited his bus.

It is a bit later than when he usually arrives at home as Mrs Ming has invited him to stay for some tea and honey cake after work, which he has gladly accepted. Spending time with the older woman is always a very nice experience and he isn't in a hurry. It is Saturday and Len would likely not bother to pass by tonight or the next couple of days, anyway. The Rogues are currently panning another heist and he never sees or hears much of Len during such times. Like usual, it also has left Barry in a bit of sour mood but he tries not to think about it and instead concentrate on the fact that this also means that he could sleep in tomorrow.

At least, that is what he is hoping for.

His nightmares have been really bad for the last couple of nights and he usually isn't able to go back to sleep after he had woken up from one – not that he really wants to at those times, anyway.

It would be nice to be able to catch a night full of sleep for once, even though experience has taught him that such a phase usually lasts for at least a week.

Still, he could stay in bed the whole day tomorrow and he hopes that this will take care of that stupid and insisting bug that has been following him around for weeks now. Getting sick is about the last thing he wants to do.

Barry's steps slow down a bit when he notices the couple of boys in their late teens standing close to the entrance of his building. A flash of anger and frustration goes through him as he knows exactly what this means by now.

There would be another one of those damn parties tonight. He clenches his jaw in pure annoyance for a moment before he forces himself to relax again. Getting frustrated over this wouldn't help him and he really is too exhausted to waste any of his energy on this.

His gaze moves up to the window above his own and watches with a frown how he can see people move around behind it. It is just his luck that he would get the apartment below such a complete and utter jerk who doesn't give a damn about the other people who live in the building with him. Barry knows that he can't be the only one who is bothered by him throwing parties that last till in the early morning about every other week but, like him, nobody who lives here wants to get the police involved.

It is frustrating but they all are worried about getting in trouble, either with the cops or with the man himself who is well-known to be prone to violence. It would only lead to more problems than a sleep of night is worth.

A small voice in the back of his mind reminds him that this is not how one deals with these people, that looking away is never a solution and that this kind of situations will not simply go away on their own. People like this man thrive on the fear and inaction of others-

Barry shakes his head slightly as if this would help with shutting the uneasy voice up. A familiar guilt attaches itself to him and he tries to will it away but with little success. Once, he would have done something about it but he just can't, not with where his life is right now and isn't that a daunting realisation?

It is similar to how it was after he had gone to college, after he had left his last host family behind him, the fear of others and possible confrontations is just like back then. He is a coward, he knows that and it fills him with shame but this still isn't enough to make him jump over his own shadow.

These days, it is like when he was a young. Keeping his head low could spare him a lot of pain and trouble, just trying to make himself so small that the world itself would oversee him…

The group of young men notice him and watch him curiously as he makes his way past them. Barry keeps his gaze straight ahead of himself and tries to ignore them. They let him pass by without causing any trouble. They usually don't other than calling him names and making fun of him, typical behaviour for teenagers who just want to impress their friends.

In a way it is funny how things never change and how similar one generation is to the next in this aspect.

When he opens the entrance to the old building that leads directly to the staircase, Barry is immediately able to pick up the low bass of the music from a couple of floors above him.

There is no doubt in his mind that this would be another sleepless night as he pauses at the foot of the stairs and looks up with an unhappy frown.

He doesn't want to go up there anymore. The thought of how he would lay awake for the next eight hours, being force listening to this damn music and people talking and moving around above him, makes his whole body feel even heavier.

The laughter of the teens close to building sound through the closed door behind him and he thinks that they are probably here for the party as well. Not wanting to run into them again, Barry slowly starts to make his way upstairs. The arch in his knees and hips suddenly feels much more distinct than just a minute ago.

It is about four hours later, that he accepts that there is no way in hell that he would even get a minute of sleep while this ruckus is going on. The dull buzz of the partying crowd as well as the ongoing music reach him even through his earplugs he usually uses when his neighbours are too loud for him to be able to settle down.

Tiredly, he decides to get up and make himself some tea. His head has started to hurt rather badly, as has his throat and he hopes that something warm to drink will help with both.

While the tea is still seeping, he opens the window over his sink and climbs out onto the fire escape. The hope that a bit of fresh air could possibly help him with his headache is quickly gone when he notices that the cacophony is even worse out here. His overhead neighbour seems to have decided that opening the windows is a splendid idea and he can hear people talk and laugh just as clear as if they were next to them. Barry lets out a tired and exasperated groan and leans heavily on the cool metal railing of the platform.

The streets are mostly empty other than for a couple of teenagers at the corner of the building. Most of the other houses lay in dark with the exception of the occasionally lit window and he has no idea how anybody in this area is able to get any sleep at all with the noise that is going on. He can't but envy them for it.

"So, I am not the only one who can't sleep thank to these idiots?"

Barry freezes for a second before he slowly looks over to his right side, where a man is sitting at the fire escape next to his own with his legs dangling over its edge. He is hard to make out in the little light as the street lamp closest to them has broken down a while ago and nobody has bothered to fix it so far.

"I didn't mean to scare you," adds the stranger – seemingly his neighbour – and sounds both, slightly concerned and amused after Barry has failed to reply or moved at all for a very long moment.

"N-no, y-you d-didn't, y-you j-just s-sup-prised m-me," he tries to explain because the other man hasn't done anything to him and he has to appear rather rude right now. His stammer has gotten worse again and he isn't sure whether it is due to how tired he is or because of being surprised. Whatever the reason, it fills him with a familiar unease and embarrassment. There is no doubt in his mind that he has to sound quite stupid and in a way he is now glad that he hasn't turned the light in his kitchen on. This way, the other man wouldn't see how damn uncomfortable he feels, at least.

The stranger doesn't reply for a while and Barry knows that he is being studied. The poor fellow probably isn't sure how to talk to him. It is ridiculous how off-putting his stammer is to most people, it is a bit like he is running around with a disease nobody wants to catch.

A familiar feeling of bitterness starts to settle into his stomach and he is just about to apologize himself and go back into his flat when the other man speaks again.

"You are a very quiet neighbour, I really should thank you for this," he says and there is both, amusement and honesty in his voice as he speaks:" Seeing that I could have gotten a jackass like that guy instead."

He nods towards the source of the noise above them before he pushes himself a bit back and gets up. Unconsciously, Barry takes a step back, towards his window but stops himself before he can make himself look any weirder than he already has. The stranger briefly pauses and Barry is pretty sure that he has picked up on it.

For a moment neither of them moves and the buzzing of the party just a few feet above them fills the night air around them like an uncomfortable humidity. Then, the other man, who seems to be just a bit taller and in a much better physical shape than Barry, walks over to the side of the railing that is directed towards his.

"My name is Edward," he introduces himself and offers his hand over the gap between them.

Barry hesitates briefly before he pushes himself to move so that he can accept the stranger's, Edward's hand. The feeling of another person touching him, especially a man he doesn't know, is so damn unsettling that he nearly pulls his hand back immediately.

"B-Barry," he utters and is glad when Edward lets his hand go just a second later:" N-nice t-to m-m-meet you."

"Likewise," nods his neighbour and even with the little light Barry can make out that he is smiling:" You are the first other tenant here I have actually talked to since I moved here three months ago. Usually people just glare at me suspicious when I so much as look at them."

This is not something Barry has any troubles believing. He has quickly learned that the people here aren't very welcoming towards others and mostly prefer to stick to themselves. Seeing how high the criminal rate of this place is, it is understandable and in his case it isn't as if his stammering is making it any more appealing to others to try and have a conversation with him.

Barry guesses that he is lucky that he has met Mary who is an unusual friendly and outgoing person. His neighbour obviously hasn't been fortunate enough to get to know anybody like that around here so far.

"D-don't w-worry, n-not a-all are l-like th-that."

"Yeah, I can see that," agrees the other man and Barry realizes that he doesn't feel that apprehensive towards him anymore, which is quite surprising as it usually takes him much longer to get used to another man, even if he behaves friendly towards him.

"I think I will go back inside and try to catch some sleep, despite those jackasses up there."

"Y-yeah, th-that is p-probably a g-good i-idea," agrees Barry and watches how the other man vanishes back through his window after wishing him a goodnight.

Despite his exhaustion and still ongoing headache, he doesn't miss that this meeting has lifted his mood a little bit and he decides to go back inside as well.

A low curse slips over his lips when he realizes that his tea is still seeping.

Barry has started to spend more of his free time with Len and consequently the other Rogues over the past weeks.

He still feels like he is sticking out like a sore thumb but they are welcoming enough, even though, other than for Hartley and James, most of them prefer not to interact with him on their own if they can help it. Barry knows not to take it personal.

It has always been like that between them, ever since they picked up on what had been done to him back during his time in prison.

The rape of another man is a very uncomfortable topic for most guys and the Rogues are certainly no exception. Barry sometimes even gets the impression that they feel more uneasy about being left in a room alone with him than the other way around, which is a bit funny in a sad way.

He doesn't hold it against them, though. In all honestly, he even is somewhat glad that most of them keep their distance whenever Len isn't around.

Barry has just returned behind the counter after finishing his lunch break when Izzy, the prostitute he has met at Len's place months ago, turns up at the Mrs Ming's small store. He immediately knows that this won't turn out to be a nice meeting and watches her as a familiar dread settles into his stomach.

The woman is wearing rather short and showing clothes for the weather but doesn't look sleazy, which is most likely because she is wearing hardly any make-up at all this time.

Once again it hits him by how pretty she is, especially now, without any dark eye shadow or bight lipstick on. It causes her to look quite a bit younger and while she isn't the type to be called beautiful, she is still very good looking. Barry doesn't want to but he can't help but consider that Len is probably thinking the same thing when he is looking at her. This notion causes an odd feeling to awake in his abdomen and the unease he has felt since he spotted her increases.

Their gazes meet and she eyes him briefly before a slight sneer appears on her face that is quickly replaced by a smirk. It makes him uneasy enough that he is relieved when she finally turns away and starts to look through the store instead. A small part of him hopes that she wouldn't find anything and just leaves again but he knows his luck.

A couple of other customers are around and he doesn't have the time to keep an eye on her. Thus, when he is finally able to turn his attention back to her, he feels his stomach sink as he sees that she is actually making her way over to him with a bottle of cheap red wine and two bags of potato chips.

She puts the items on the counter and gives him an unpleasant smile.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here," she says in a low and somewhat sultry voice that causes Barry to tense up with growing discomfort:" Lenny's little pity project."

A familiar heat rises to his face and he glares at her for a second before wordlessly turning towards the things she seems intended to buy and starts to feed the register with the prices.

"The world is really a small place," she goes on, obviously not concerned by his lack of a reply:" Just the other day I was thinking of you after Lenny and I needed a little break. Funny, hm?"

The words actually hurt him and he isn't sure whether he is angry over her clear intent to make him uncomfortable or his own reaction to it. Mostly, he is just confused, though, and feels so stupid for it.

"Th-this m-m-makes f-four d-d-"

"Four dollars and seventy-five cents," cuts him Izzy off with a smirk:" I can subtract and you really should stick to not talking. That way at least, people won't think you are a bit slow."

His jaw joints flare up in pain as he clenches his teeth in response to the insult and he returns her smug gaze stubbornly but unable to say a word.

"Here," she finally says after they have stared at each other for about ten seconds and lays a five dollar note down on the counter before she picks her items up:" Keep the change."

Izzy lets her eyes slowly travel down and up his body before she turns towards him again with a mockingly concerned frown.

"You should eat more, Sissy-boy, Len doesn't like the scrawny type."

The little bell above the entrance chimes again when she leaves and Barry just watches her go through the glass door while he tries not to choke on the shame and fury he feels right now.

"Do you have popcorn?"

James, who is currently trying to get the video program to run with which they want to watch the DVD on the laptop he has "borrowed" from Lisa, shoots him a hopeful glance that quickly turns disappointed when Barry shakes his head in negation.

"We have just ordered food," reminds Hartley the other man with a slight frown from his spot at the table. He is currently looking through the collection of DVDs James has also picked up during his quick visit to the blond woman's room.

"I don't like Greek food," grumbles James and curses slightly when the portable computer once again doesn't do what he wants it to. Barry flinches slightly as he watches him hit the poor thing and knows that it would be just his luck if Lisa pins this one on him. He still isn't sure whether it wouldn't have been a better idea just not to answer the door about fifteen minutes ago. It seems that it isn't just an annoying trait exclusive to Len to simply pass by without a warning or to do so after nine pm on a weeknight.

"You said it is fine just about twenty minutes ago," huffs Hartley in audible exasperation but doesn't take his eyes off the DVD he is currently studying:" We could have ordered something else as well if you had said so then."

"But you wanted Greek and you always get annoyed when I want to order somewhere else in addition."

Barry, who is currently standing at the small counter of his kitchenette to prepare a mug of coffee for his guests and some tea for himself, feels a familiar fondness overcome him as he listens to the two younger man quarrel and his worry about Len's younger sister's wrath starts to cease.

For a couple of days now he had been in a rather bad mood and it is a nice change to have them around, even if this would cost him some additional hours of sleep. Len hasn't shown himself the whole week so far and he knows that the other man probably isn't thinking anything of it but Barry misses his company a bit. Still, he doesn't want to appear clingy and tries to tell himself that it is simply because he is lonely most of the time.

After more than eight months out of prison, this isn't entirely true anymore, though. He has actually found a small number of people again who made it easier for him to get out of bed every morning, and even if it is odd to admit it, two of them are currently sitting in his living room.

Thus, while he usually sees Len the most of everybody, he knows that he has simply grown fond of having him around.

"Hey, Barry!"

James' loud voice startles him out of this thoughts and he immediately tenses up in response.

"James keep it down," chides Hartley and shoots the other man an annoyed look before he turns back to Barry:" Sorry, we just want to know whether you are fine with "Mr Magorium's Wonder Emporium"?"

Barry has no idea what kind of movie this is but he doesn't miss how James enthusiastically nods in support from his seat on the couch. He shrugs and agrees.

Much to his surprise, it turns out to be a children movie.

"Why can't we have such a toy store?" laments James as they watch how the kids on the screen are clearly enjoying their trip to the so called Wonder Emporium. It isn't lost on Barry how Hartley briefly glances at the other criminal with a concerned expression and his good mood starts to dim.

The food is delivered just a bit over ten minutes into the movie and it turns out to be as good as Hartley has told him.

"I love Barberis', they make the best Dolmades," tells him the ginger after they have sat back down on the couch and started the movie again. It turns out that Hartley has been in Greek a couple of times during his childhood and that he has a soft spot for their cuisine.

"It i-is g-good," agrees Barry after he has tried one of the grape leaf-wrapped rice parcels, which is a dish he himself has eaten a couple of times before but of which he never really took a particularly liking off. All of the food is very tasty, though, not that he would have complained even if it weren't, seeing Hartley has paid for it.

"Shhh!"

James, who has had his attention already back on the television, is glaring at them now in obvious annoyance and both of them fall quiet to let the younger man enjoy the movie in peace.

Towards the beginning of the third act, Barry starts to grow drowsy and while he tells himself that he just wants to rest his eyes for a second, he drifts off within seconds.

Hartley wakes him sometime later.

"We are going to leave now, Barry. Thank you for taking the time."

Groggily, Barry nods his head and mutters something unintelligible while his eyes start to close again.

The ginger chuckles and tells him that they will leave through the mirror before he wishes him a goodnight.

"Nighty night, Barry-bear!" adds James in a much too enthusiastic voice that causes Barry to flinch.

"Not so loud."

"… sorry."

Barry watches them for a second longer before he slips off again.

His alarm clock wakes him four hours later and he could kick himself for being stupid enough to spend a night on the couch. He feels like an old man as he limps towards his bathroom to get ready for work but even with the pain he can't but realize that he is in a much better mood than he has been in days.


	6. Past Regrets

May 1st year

It is on his way to his way to the KC City Hall that Barry sees Wally again for the first time in years.

It is a rather warm early Thursday afternoon, spring has fully taken over the weather by now, and he is enjoying the sun even though he has to hurry to get back to work within an hour. Mrs Ming has been nice enough to let him take two hours off because he has lost his ID sometime over the last couple of days and needs to get a new one before he could get into trouble for it.

Barry still isn't sure how or where he has lost it. He usually had it in his wallet but it somehow seemed to have slipped out of it one way or another, which is quite a problem because he is required to carry it around everywhere.

"Don't worry, my dear," Mrs Ming consoled him after she had picked up on how worried he was due to it:" You just need to get a new one. This things happen, my grandson lost his passport just a couple of months ago while he was in Germany and it was hardly any trouble at all to get a new one."

The old woman meant well and Barry didn't point out that it is quite a different story for someone like him.

Barry already went to a police station not too far from the shop to make a notice of loss and, much to his surprise and immense relief, it when by smoothly. The officer who took in his information didn't seem particularly interested in him, he handed him the paper with which he had to go to the KC DOC office and that was it. It is nearly surreal, Barry had worried himself nearly sick since the day before when he accepted that he had lost his ID for sure, he had been certain the visit to the police station would be another horrible and demeaning experience.

It is as if a weight has been lift off his shoulders, and while he still feels nervous about the whole affair, he no longer is really afraid due to it.

There is still over an hour left before he has to be back at the store and he hopes that his business at the DOC office would be dealt with just as quickly.

He tries to stay clear of any of the other pedestrians, which is no easy task with how crowded sidewalks are due to the nice weather that seems drive people outside. It causes a familiar feeling of discontent to overcome him while he makes his way towards his destination but he tries to ignore it. Despite how the day has started out, he is in a pretty good mood and he would like for it to stay like this.

Thus, Barry tries to shut the people around him out as he usually does when he is surrounded by too many of them in too little space. He keeps his gaze mostly down and concentration on the cacophony of sounds around him while trying not to pick up any actual words. It works out surprisingly well and being surrounded by so many strangers isn't that bad of an experience anymore, these days. Not like it was the first couple of weeks after his discharge, anyway. He still doesn't like it but it is bearable, which is elating in its own little way.

It also helps to occupy his mind with something and Barry uses the time he has right now to go over the list of things he has to order tomorrow once again in his head. He is just trying to remember whether they are out of pickles or not, when something catches him completely off-guard.

Wally's voice is like a beacon through the clutter of sounds around him and is causes him to stop so abruptly that a woman, who has been walking behind him, collides with him.

"Watch it, idiot," the brunette hisses annoyed and gives him a glare before she moves on. Barry hardly pays any attention to her as his eyes try to make out the man he has just heard. His instincts tell him to scram before his little trip could end in a disaster but he can't bring himself to move just yet. He has to look for him. The familiar voice reaches him again and as his gaze turns towards it, he immediately notices the red hair.

Barry immediately notices that it has lost some of its brightness over the years. The once very vivid red has turned into a more medium coppery shade but he still has no problem picking the younger man out of the crowd around him.

His stomach makes a sickening lurch a second later when he realize how close he actually is to him, just about ten feet away, and he knows with a painful certainty that it would be disastrous should Wally notice him now. It is sheer luck that he hasn't picked up on him yet and before Barry even can come to the decision whether he should stick around for just a moment longer or not, his feet start to move again on their own.

A part of him wants to stop, so very badly, and apologize for how much he has him failed. He ignores it as he is all too aware how Wally would react to suddenly being confronted with him. He glances back over his shoulder once more, shortly before he is far enough away that the other man would be swallowed by the crowed and he notices how sombre his expression is. It is horrible to know that he is at fault for this, that he could not protect him. The notion causes a familiar guilt to rise in his guts.

Then, Wally chuckles and a small but soft smile appears on his lips as he turns to the dark haired Asian woman who is standing next to him, whom Barry hasn't noticed before. He watches how she turns towards his nephew before she lowers her head, so that her forehead is resting on his shoulder. She is smiling as well and, just as Wally cups the back of her head, they both vanish out of his sight.

Barry is left feeling oddly detached of everything for the rest of the day. All the brightness is gone.

"Has something happened?"

Barry startles slightly and lifts his eyes from the noodles he has been listlessly moving around in the little plastic container for the past five minutes. It seems that he has been lost in his own thoughts once again, which causes him to frown in annoyance over his inability of preventing his mind from going back to the former afternoon.

"S-sorry," he mutters and briefly glances at Len, who is watching him with a rather uncomfortable intense way from the other side of the table.

"Th-there is j-just s-someth-thing on m-my m-mind."

Len stays quiet and both drop back into a not particularly comfortable silence.

Barry feels bad for it, he hasn't seen his friend in more than two weeks before tonight and he should at least try to keep his attention on him. It is just so damn difficult to get Wally out of his head. After all this years, he has seen him again and he could have just as well been a stranger. Iris comes briefly to his mind and the memory is like a stab into his guts.

"We have another poker night tomorrow."

Glad to have something else to focus on than his troubling thoughts, Barry turns back to Len and smiles, even if it is a bit uncertain.

"A-are y-you inv-viting m-me?"

The other man snorts and asks him what he thinks.

"I l-l-lost y-you n-nearly f-fifty d-dollars l-last t-time."

Len just shrugs.

"That is part of the game."

"Other p-people l-losing y-your m-money?" asks Barry in disbelief but is at least a bit amused by his friend's nonchalance. He envies him for it at times.

"I have won the money back by now," Len points out and Barry feels the unexpected urge to point out that he probably wouldn't behave that reckless with his money if it actually was his to begin with. He doesn't, though.

Len is clearly trying to lift his mood and while he hates to be reminded time and time again of who his friend actually is, he doesn't feel up to it to start a fight over it right now. Not that it would make any difference anyway. He knew from the very beginning what he has let himself in for.

"I-I s-saw m-my n-nephew t-t-today."

It take Barry a moment before he realizes that he has said this out loud. He tenses up painfully in surprise and anger.

Why the hell would he bring that up just now?!

He can feel Len's eyes on him but he can't bring himself to meet them. A familiar shame has started to cling on to him again and it leaves him with the urge to hide away from everything and everyone. He doesn't want to have to deal with this, he is so tired…

"I take it that he didn't see you."

These words get Barry to look up to the other man in confusion.

"You probably wouldn't be in one piece anymore if he had," explains Len with a grim smirk but doesn't seem to find this particularly funny.

Barry clenches his jaw and glares at him. There is a lot he would love to say to him right now, like for example where he can stick these stupid comments of his, but his throat has already closed up on him again and thus there is no real outlet for his frustration and embarrassment left.

Stiffly, he gets up – completely ignoring Len as he does so – and walks over to the kitchen counter to make himself some tea.

While he doesn't think that he could stomach anything right now, he needs to busy himself with something. A couple of minutes go by and his anger over what Len has said slowly dims again, partly also because the other man gives him the time he needs to collect himself and calm down.

After preparing himself a cup of mint tea, Barry slowly walks back over to the table and takes his former seat. He keeps his eyes on the white cup in his hands.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

Len doesn't appear like he feels really sorry but Barry knows that he hardly ever shows it, no matter whether he actually regrets something he has done or not. His words sound honest enough, though.

"Wh-what d-did you th-think? Th-that I-I w-w-would f-find it f-funny?"

His bitterness is so strong that he is sure he can actually taste it on his tongue as he speaks.

"M-my n-neph-phew h-hates m-me, h-hil-larious, i-isn't i-it?"

The itching in his eyes grows really bad and he ducks his head a bit. A familiar painful throbbing starts behind his temples and presses his fingers against it while he tries to take a couple of calming breathes.

Again, Len gives him the time he needs to get a hold of his emotions. It takes a while before the pressure behind his sternum starts to cease to something he can deal with.

Barry swallows and takes a sip of his tea when he is certain that he is no longer in danger to make a complete fool of himself. His hand feels weak but he ignores it.

"How did you met him?" asks Len when Barry finally is able to look at him again:" Didn't you have work today?"

"Y-yes, b-but…"

His voice breaks off and he coughs lightly while he feels himself flush in embarrassment. He hates this, all of this, so very much.

"I h-had t-to g-go t-to the D-DOC-C b-because I h-have l-lost m-my I-D s-someh-how."

"You've met him there?"

"N-no."

Barry closes his eyes and leans against the backrest of the chair.

"It w-was on m-my w-way th-there."

Wally has looked so different, so grown up. The couple of times he saw him in costume during his time in prison made it difficult to make out any real changes of him other than for his maturing voice and stature. It is so damn strange to have seen him like this, no longer a teenager but a man. He has missed all of it.

"H-he l-looks so d-different," Barry goes on without knowing why he does so as it hurts so damn much just thinking about it:" H-he is s-so m-much older, a g-grown m-man and… h-he… h-his hair are a b-bit d-darker a-and h-he l-look-ked s-so g-grim… he… he w-was n-never a h-happy k-kid b-but he… I w-wanted h-him t-to b-be h-happy…"

With a soft hiss he breaks off and presses the balls of his hands against his once more teared up eyes. His throat hurts and while he tries to keep it together, he can feel how his control slowly but surely slips from him.

This is all his fault.

The sound of a chair being shoved back causes him to jump slightly and a couple of tears run down his cheeks as he looks over to the other man. This has to be extremely uncomfortable for him, Barry realizes and feels how a familiar and nearly stinging heat spreads through his cheeks at the thought that he has just been about to break down in front of Len – of Captain Cold – someone who doesn't like to touch anything more emotional than a smirk or a scowl even with the end of a stick.

To his surprise, the other man doesn't do as he has assumed and leave, though, but instead walks over to his fridge and grabs two beers.

Barry watches him warily as he comes back to him and offer one to him.

"Here, you can definitely use one."

He sounds grim and tense and while Barry doesn't feel like he could stomach anything right now, he accepts it with a small nod.

The beer tastes bitter and cold and the sickness ebbs away after just a couple of seconds.

They don't talk while they drink their first beer and Barry tries to just concentrate on the taste and nothing else, which works for the most part. He doesn't notice that he gulps the liquid down unusually quickly, nearly faster than Len, and when he is offered another one, he accepts it without hesitation.

After this, Len grabs the poker cards he keeps around at Barry's place and they play a game.

"You did well," comments the other man after their first round.

"I-I've l-lost," remarks Barry quietly and hates how feeble his voice still sounds. Right now, he couldn't care less if he is the worst player on this planet.

"It still was harder for me to read you."

Len gets each of them a third beer and they start another game.

This repeats one more time before Barry is drunk enough that he has problems holding his cards.

"'m-m th-the w-wors-st p-paylr e-ever…"

"Hardly," disagrees Len and shoots him an amused look which causes him to glare at him in turn. It is so damn unfair that he isn't even buzzed yet.

"I-I h-hat-te p-p-pok-ker…"

"You agree an awful lot to playing it then."

Another glare and the other man actually chuckles as he starts to pick the cards up. Barry gets up as he wants to move over to the couch and quickly find himself on the ground. The change of position startles him so badly that he doesn't notice the pain that sears through his knees and head at first.

He cries out when a hand grabs his upper arm but quickly calms down again when he hears Len.

"It's just me," he tells him in a low and calm voice before he chuckles:" Shit, you are really a lightweight, aren't you?"

"D-don' m-make f-f-fun of m-me," complains Barry and feels rather miserable all of a sudden:" I-I d-don't l-like d-drunken p-people…"

Len hums nonverbally and helps him up again before assisting him to find his way over to the couch in one piece.

"Y-you… y-you s-said I-I w-was d-doin' b-bet-ter t-ton-night…"

"You were," agrees his friend as he walks back to the kitchen table while Barry lets himself drop to the side so that he can rest his head on the arm of the couch and pulls his legs up:" Till you've gotten to your third beer."

A rather dark scowl appears on his face but he feels too groggy to sit up and show it to Len.

"B-beer i-isn' h-health-thy," he mutters sullenly.

He nearly nods off over the next couple of minutes till he feels the cushioning next to him move and jumps slightly. When he throws a worried glance to his side, he sees Len and wonders whom else he has expected. He realizes how stupid he has to look, reacting so frightened to everything around him.

"Come, sit up. I've gotten you some water."

"I-I'm n-not th-thirsty."

"You will regret it tomorrow if you fall asleep with nothing but beer in your system."

"I-I'm t-tired."

Len chuckles and Barry feels a bit affronted by it.

"S-stop m-making f-f-fun of m-me!"

"You are definitely not a mellow drunk."

The remark is meant as nothing more than a jest but it shakes something deep inside him awake, a memory – no, a bunch of them – and suddenly he feels furious.

"I-I'm n-no d-drunk!" Barry hisses upset and, briefly, he really wants to kick him for causing him to remember any of this horrible stuff. He knows how stupid this would be, though, and even dangerous if Len should take to it the wrong way. Therefore, he scrambles up in a sitting position and glares at the other man instead.

His reaction seems to have caught Len off-guard as he just watches him for a long moment.

"I know."

He sounds calm and like he is stating a fact and the anger is gone from Barry just as quickly as it has appeared.

"G-good," nods Barry but is a bit uncertain of what to do now.

"S-sorry f-for y-yelling at you."

Len scoffs and gives him a crooked smile.

"It's fine."

"Th-thanks…"

"Sure," he shrugs and remarks with a fond smirk that he usually has to take a lot worse from his sister.

"N-no," disagrees Barry with a frown:" I m-mean f-for… f-for b-being m-my f-friend… f-for b-being h-here."

This time, it seems that Len isn't sure how to respond.

He doesn't replay anything in the end and Barry feels too tired to worry about the sudden change in his mood so that he instead just accepts the water.

When Barry wakes up with a hell of a hangover a couple of hours later, Len is no longer there.


	7. The Pain That Doesn't Leave

June 1st year

A knock to his door causes Barry to stop from chopping the onion he is intending to add to the eggs for his omelette.

The clock in his living room shows that it is just shortly after noon and he knows that Mary wouldn't be around till later this afternoon. Len or the others are also unlikely as they usually just pay him a visit well after it has gotten dark and generally prefer to use Sam's help if the man can be bothered.

Not that he has seen much of them over the last month…

Barry frowns unhappily and pushes the thought away.

A turns his attention back to the door and a slight unease starts to settle over him. Another knock follows and he hesitates a moment longer before he puts the knife away and somewhat reluctantly makes his way over to the entrance of his flat.

It is early June and warm enough that he has the window over his kitchen sink open so that the sound of the streets below follow him through his apartment. This low cacophony of life outside his four walls has a very lulling quality but isn't able to do much for his nerves right now.

His stomach feels odd, as if something heavy was resting in it and weighing it down. It seems that he would have to safe his lunch for dinner.

The slight sense of foreboding grows worse as he leans down two look through his door spy to see who his unexpected visitor is. It is as if a bucket of ice water is emptied over his and for a second his legs seem to grow weak as he spots the person on the other side of the door.

It has been years since he has seen Jay the last time and, like with anybody else of his former life, he hasn't expected to do so anytime soon either.

Well, at least not, if the other man could help it.

What is he doing here?

Barry swallows nervously and he suddenly wonders whether anybody could have picked up on his connection to Len and the other Rogues.

Or former connection, he thinks bitterly, as it seems like this part of his life has resolved itself on its own again.

Still, he knows that there doesn't actually need to be a reason for him to get in trouble and the notion alone makes him feels sick.

He actually jumps when another knock sounds in front of him, a bit louder this time and he remembers that the other man is still waiting for him to answer the door.

Barry nervously gnaws his lower lip and isn't sure what to do. The notion to not open the door crosses his thoughts but he knows that this would most likely just lead to trouble should Jay find out that he has simply been ignoring him. He doesn't like it but the best thing is probably to just deal with whatever is going to happen. There aren't really that many options for him to choose from, anyway.

After taking a deep and slow calming breath, Barry reaches for the handle and opens the door.

Jay looks hardly any different than he has the last time he has seen him or back before everything happened. He probably doesn't even look that different from when Barry met him for the first time. Not bad for a man who was going towards the end of his eighties by now.

There is a moment of surprised silence and it becomes obvious that his guest hasn't expected to get any answer anymore. For a long moment, they both silently watch each other, unsure what to say.

"Hallo, Barry," Jay finally says and actually gives him a weak smile:" I hope I am not interrupting you with anything?"

Like usual under such situations, his voice has abandoned him once again, so that Barry just mutely shakes his head in negation. There are a lot of questions on his mind but right now his throat is closed up so tightly that just swallowing would be difficult.

Jay frowns slightly and Barry starts to fidget a bit nervously.

"Can I come in?"

The request doesn't come unexpected but Barry still isn't sure how to respond. He really doesn't think that this would be a good idea because why would Jay be here other than for some reason that would cause him just more problems in the end? He doesn't think that he would be able to deal with anything else.

He is so very tired of everything already, as it is.

There is a small part of him, though, which is excited to see the man in front of him again, which has been missing his former friend and colleague – all of them. Barry knows how stupid he is for it but he can't help it.

It has been and still is a horrible experience to be shunned by everybody, especially people like the Garricks, whom he considered family once. Not a single person of his past has come to him since his discharge and while he knows that he should most likely be grateful for it, it still hurts so badly at times.

Again, he answers wordlessly with a nod and steps aside to give the older man space to enter.

Jay gives him a slightly concerned look before he does so.

Barry closes the door behind him and watches how his guest briefly looks around in his small flat. It is then that it hits him how poor his current living conditions have to seem to him and an embarrassed and angry flush crosses his cheeks before he forces himself to avert his gaze from Jay and instead walk back over to his kitchenette to put the bowl with the whisked eggs and the cutting board with the onions into his fridge for later.

When he turns back to the Jay he finds him watching him and the discomfort and embarrassment hit him with full force once again. He tries to tell him to take a seat but his throat doesn't let a single word pass his lips, so that he quickly stops again. His flush deepens and gestures towards the kitchen table instead, his lips now firmly closed.

Jay doesn't move for a couple of seconds and Barry realizes with a sinking feeling that this is going to become a very awkward and humiliating experience for both of them if he shouldn't be able to get it together.

To his immense relief, Jay starts to move over to the offered seat just a moment later, though.

After showing him the box of coffee he has in his cupboard and Jay agreeing to it, he busies himself to prepare the beverage for the next couple of minutes during which neither of them speaks and an uncomfortably smothering silence starts to fill the room. He keeps his back to the other man for most of the time even though he can feel his gaze on himself. All of this is just so damn embarrassing and he hopes that he will be able to get some of his composure back to be able to at least get some words out.

Then again, maybe staying quiet is better than sounding like a complete fool.

"Thanks."

Jay accepts the cup of steaming coffee with a nod and an obviously concerned and grim expression that Barry isn't sure what to make of.

"Y-y-… y-you a-are w-w-welc-come," he forces out and hates how ridiculous he sounds even to himself.

His stomach feels queasy and it is most likely not a good idea for him to drink a cup as well but he takes one for himself nonetheless, just so that he has something in his hands.

Another uneasy silence follows and Barry keeps his eyes on the dark liquid in front of him while he listens to the sounds that reach him through the still opened window.

"Are you feeling alright?"

His grip around the cup tightens and his stomach makes an uncomfortable lurch.

"Y-yes."

Barry tries to ignore how feeble he sounds and keeps his gaze fixed on the cup of coffee.

Jay doesn't say anything else for another moment in which he can feel his scrutinizing eyes on him and he hates that he doesn't simply say why he is here.

"Barry," starts the older man again and something in his tone causes him to finally look up despite the reluctance he feels. Their eyes meet and Jay's frown deepens.

"You don't look like you are alright."

Somehow, these words are like a slap or maybe not the words themselves but the way they have been stated.

What the hell has he been expecting? Was he really surprised?

"I-I a-am f-f-… f-fine," he grits out and stubbornly returns Jay's gaze, even though it hurts to look at him.

"I think we both know that this is not true," returns the other man calmly but there is a slight tension to his expression that lets Barry know that he doesn't like the tone he is using on him. This makes him feel both, even angrier and like a petulant little boy. He turns back to the cup of coffee in front of him and stares at it quietly.

"I am not here to cause you any trouble," Jay goes on after he hasn't said anything for a couple of seconds:" I was just in the area and wanted to check on you."

Check on him. These words are extremely disconcerting. What is he thinking? That he is dragging little boys home after work in the deep of the night?

Barry lowers his head a bit and squeezes his eyes shut. He really regrets having him invited in, even though there hasn't been a real choice for him to begin with. Sending Jay away would have just made him look suspicious.

"You look exhausted," states his former friend in an oddly concerned voice that causes his chest to hurt so much:" Haven't you been getting enough sleep lately?"

"I-I a-am f-f-f-fine," he repeats tiredly and turns his head so that he faces the window behind which the sky is still of that nice bright early spring blue:" R-really."

Another silence follows and he hates how his eyes have started to itch again and how, all of a sudden, the exhaustion that keeps following him around these days is suddenly weighing him down like a ton of bricks.

"You have been doing really well so far."

Barry closes his eyes and resigns himself to the fact that he couldn't do anything but let the other man talk, no matter how much he wants him gone just now.

"I am glad," tells him Jay and his honesty hurts.

It is still so hard to stomach that he really believes him to be such a twisted kind of person, a damn child abuser and a murderer. Why couldn't he just leave him be, then? This is so painful.

"I have just come by to see how you are doing. Getting used to a normal life after prison can be hard, especially with all the changes."

For a second, Barry nearly hates him, for bringing this up, because he knows exactly what he is talking about. Not about his lost wife or Wally or everything else but the Speed Force. He grits his teeth and stays quiet.

"I know that you are angry," says Jay in a more quiet tone and the regret he feels as he speaks is palpable:" And while what you have done is inexcusable, I know that it was partly our fault as well. We should have noticed and helped before… before everything was able to escalate like that. What happened afterwards should also have been handled differently."

Something changes in the air between them and Barry, whose utter horror has slowly been replaced by a feeling of icy numbness, shivers slightly but doesn't return his gaze.

"It was careless to put you in a place like Iron Heights and not keeping an eye on how you were doing. I am truly sorry-"

Barry cuts him off mid-sentences because there is no way that he would be able to deal with where this is going. He can't think about it, he wouldn't, this is behind him!

"C-c-… c-coul-ld y-you p-p-p… p-pleas-se l-l-leav-ve?" he grits out while he stumbles up onto his feet. His eyes are still not looking at the other man and he doesn't think that he could bring him to do so anytime soon. He is so damn angry at him, for believing this, any of this horrible lies, but mostly of all, he is just ashamed of himself.

The sound of Jay getting up follows a moment later and a thick silence hangs between them for a long minute before the other man speaks again.

"Of course, I am sorry for passing by unannounced."

Barry doesn't replay, he knows that he wouldn't be able to hold it together any longer if he tried.

"Barry," starts Jay again quietly:" I know that all of this is hard on you and you probably think that you are alone after everything that has happened but if you need help you can call me, okay?"

The pressure behind his sternum is so strong that Barry fears it is going to cause his chest to crack open any moment now as he forces himself to nod wordlessly. Right now, he would have agreed to anything just to be left alone.

Jay keeps standing there for another moment, watching him, before he finally leaves.

It feels like he is moving through molasses as he goes to lock the door. His head hurts and he hardly picks up how his feet lead him to his bedroom where he buries himself under the thick cover and tries not to fall apart.

Barry doesn't leave the bed again this day.

"It is a really nice store," remarks Mary as she lets her gaze wander through Mrs Ming's shop once more. It is her first visit and Barry is really happy about the little surprise.

She has come back from a trip to Wisconsin sometime during last night but he hasn't had the opportunity to see her since then as he had to leave for work quite early again.

"Well," she goes on and winks at him:" Of course it is, seeing that you are working here."

He chuckles and returns her smile gladly. Over the last two weeks he has really missed her. It didn't really become apparent to him before but she has grown very much on him seeing that she is one of the few people he can actually talk to and confide in, especially now that the Rogues seem to have gotten enough of him.

"I h-have m-missed you," he tells her and feels himself blush slightly as soon as the words are out as he just now realize that she could understand it the wrong way.

Mary gives him a soft look and reaches for his hand that is resting on the counter. She squeezes it lightly and smiles warmly.

"I have missed you too, Barry," she assures him before she grins:" You and your dorkiness never fail to brighten up my day."

"D-dork-kiness?" he asks a bit affronted as he doesn't think of himself as particularly dorky.

His friend smile kindly and squeezes his hand once again before she lets go of it.

"You know how to speak three different elf languages," she points out and he feels how his face heats up to his ears.

"I d-don't, I- j-just c-can s-say a f-few phrases."

"Don't be embarrassed, it sounds amazing."

He ducks his head and mutters some feeble protest but can't help but feel secretly a little bit proud. In his youth he has been a gigantic JRR Tolkien's fan and re-read the Hobbit and the Lord of the Ring books enough times that the librarian left him the copies when the bookbinding was starting to fall apart.

"And you a big fan of Charlie Brown," she goes on and puts her index finger on her chin as she makes a thoughtful face:" You also like Dr Who and you can recite all the elements on the periodic table by their Latin name and groups and you know all kind of odd stuff about them like electrogravitiy."

"Electron-n-negativity," he corrects under his breath and smiles when Mary chuckles in response.

"Exactly."

Mrs Ming joins them a few minutes later and she takes an immediate liking to the young woman. She invites both of them to dinner that night and Marry is just all too happy to accept. This ends in a nice and entertaining evening for Barry as well as in left-overs the older lady wraps up for him.

July 1st year

It seems that finally the last remaining light bulb of the staircase between the first and third floor stopped working and Barry, who is wet to his skin from the surprised summer shower and tired enough to fall asleep on his feet, mutters to himself that nothing of this place is worth the 550 dollar rent as he starts to climb the stairs in darkness.

The building is surprisingly quiet tonight for which he is glad to no end. Right now he just wants to get out of his drenched clothes and into his bed. It has been a long day.

Barry doesn't bother with turning on the light of his floor and just slowly makes his way over to his door. His hips have been hurting like hell the whole day already and he hopes that a long hot shower would help with the pain at least enough that it would not make it difficult for him to fall asleep.

The stripe of light that falls through the gap under his door catches his attention just as he has unlocked it. He freezes immediately.

There is the sound of footsteps and his heart nearly jumps up his throat as he realizes that whoever is in there is making their way towards the door and thus him. The notion to turn around a bold crosses his mind just as he feels the handle under hand turn.

Bright light blinds him for a second and a small distressed whimper passes his lips as he stumbles back a step.

"It's just me," tells him a low and familiar voice and the fear leaves him just as quickly as it has taken hold of him.

"Would you move it already," grunts Len when he has just been staring at him for a long minute.

"Wh-what are y-you d-doing h-here?"

"Waiting for you to finally enter you damn flat."

Annoyed, he frowns but follows along as it really would do no good if any of his neighbours picked up on his late night visitor.

"Wh-what are y-you d-doing h-here, L-Len?" he repeats his question after the other man shut the door behind him. He hasn't seen him for nearly two months by now, not a single peep, nothing, from neither of them, and he has been rather certain that this has been it for their… whatever there has been between them.

The other man shrugs and walks back over to the couch.

"I haven't been around in a while and I needed someplace quiet."

There are blueprints covering the small table in front of his couch, along with three empty beer bottles and a white take out box and Barry wonders with growing disbelief how long he has made himself at home in his flat already without even bothering to ask at first.

"S-so y-you th-thought y-you c-c-could j-just p-pass b-by?"

Len, who is standing next to the couch by now, picks up his beer and takes a pull before he turns back to him with a grim look.

"Why not? It never bothered you so far."

Barry isn't blind, he is certain that Len is just playing dumb and knows exactly why he is so angered by this.

"Y-you j-just v-vanished f-from o-one d-day t-to th-the n-next!"

"I have been busy."

Again this damn shrug, as if this hasn't meant anything.

"Wh-why d-did y-you s-suddenl-ly d-decide t-to s-s-scram?" asks Barry and angrily walks over to the couch as well:" D-did I-I s-scare y-you off s-s-someh-how?"

The other man barks a laugh before he gives him a rather nasty smirk.

"You couldn't scare off a fucking fly, Allen, don't make yourself sound stupid."

"Y-you w-would kn-know a-all a-ab-b-bout th-that, w-wouldn't y-you?"

"That from the guy who isn't able to get a single word out straight," scoffs Len and Barry decides here and now that he wouldn't deal with this tonight. He is cold and tired and he really doesn't have the patience for any of this.

Without another word, he passes his unwanted visitor and walks into his bedroom to grab some dry clothes before he vanishes into his small bathroom.

About fifteen minutes later, once again dry and warm, he re-enters the living room. Len is still sitting on the couch, seemingly working on some ideas to upgrade his gun, but he doesn't look over to make sure. Instead, he grabs himself a glass from his cupboard and watches it as it fills with water.

He more feels than hears the other man come up behind him and tenses up involuntarily. It is so annoying how quiet Len can be if he puts his mind to it.

"You're up for a game of poker?"

There is an unusual uncertain quality to his question and Barry grits his teeth as a surge of frustration flashes through him, before it is replaced once more by a bone-deep tiredness.

"Y-you've inv-vited m-me o-over t-to a-anoth-ther p-poker n-night," he reminds him quietly and immediately feels stupid for bringing this up. Over the last two months he has told himself more than once that it has been foolish of him to expect anything from those people, and that it is even more ridiculous to feel hurt by their sudden disappearance.

Len doesn't answer and Barry quietly makes his way back to his bedroom.

He closes the door firmly behind himself.

_It hurts so much, every thrust feels like it is going to split him in half and he can do nothing, not even scream as his face is pressed down into his pillow. The hand in his hairs tighten and he isn't sure whether he should fight against it and try to move his head so that he could finally get some air down his lungs again or simply let it go and pass out. Maybe this time would be the last one, then._

_The thrusts becomes quicker, shorter and harder and he cries into his pillow as the pain shoots up his spine and nearly causes him to throw up._

_Then, he hears him grunt and hiss and there is another awful thrust into him and he knows that it is over for tonight. The hand holds him down for another long moment and he feels lightheaded enough that he hardly notices how the man pulls out of him._

"_Good boy," he says, the mid-forty electrician named David who is his the latest foster father he is stuck with for now. He misses the Perkins, they may have been violent and awful people but neither of them ever sexually abused any of their foster kids._

"_Good boy," repeats David and pats his head as if he was some kind of dog:" You did really great, Barry."_

_His hand moves down his naked back and he caresses him in this twisted tender way that causes Barry nearly to lose it._

"_I am really proud of you, you are such a good little boy."_

_Tears are running down his cheeks and wet the pillow below him and he wishes the man would finally leave and he would be able to get Mister Bunny from his hiding place. He just wants to be left alone._

"_Such a good little boy."_

_Warm lips touch his shaking right shoulder and he sobs quietly. The hand on his hip gives him a small squeeze and he tries to remember one of the Limericks they have been reading in school the other day._

_There was an old man on a boat,_

_Who said "I am afloat, I am afloat!"_

_When they said "No you ain't!"_

_He was ready to faint,_

_That unhappy old man on a boat._

_It helps a bit, reciting them silently to themselves while the man keeps patting him in this horribly affectionate way._

"_Such a good little boy," he repeats and his breath is hot against his ear._

Barry wakes up with a start. His heart is razing and he feels so sick for a second that he is certain he would have to change his bedding before he could try to catch anymore sleep tonight. Thankfully, it just takes his stomach a few seconds to settle down again, though.

Keeping laying there in the darkness isn't an option, he can feel that bastard's hands still on him, as well as the phantom pain in his lower body. With a small groan, he rolls onto his side and gets up. His knee buckle but he is able to get his footing and slowly make his way over to the door.

The small floor and his living area are dark and he clumsily searches for the lightening switch on the wall next to him. A moment later everything is flooded by brightness and he squints his eyes as a sharp pain shoots through his head in return.

A cup of warm tea would be exactly the right thing to settle his nerves a bit.

Barry has hardly entered his living room when someone makes a protesting noise from his couch and sits up with a low swear. It startles him so badly that he actually screams and stumble back a couple of steps.

Len is on his feet in an impressive display of speed. His face displays both, anger and confusion, as he searches for any potential danger. As soon as his eyes land on him, though, he relaxes somewhat again.

"What the hell?" he asks in obvious annoyance with a voice that is still harsh from sleep:" Are you fucking nuts? I could have shot you, you damn idiot!"

It is then, that Barry notices the familiar gun in the other man's right hand and he realizes that he really has been lucky to not end up at least partly frozen.

"Wh-what a-are y-you s-still d-d-doing here?"

His voice sounds shaky and feeble but he doesn't really care. He feels a strange numbness overcome his mind and he can't bring himself to be angry to find the other man still around, he is mostly just curious. From experience, he knows that his couch is an awful substitute for a bed.

"What the fuck does it look like?" grunts Len and puts the gun down on the table:" Getting some rest, or at least, I have been trying to."

Barry just looks at him for a couple of seconds but can't bring himself to point out that he really had no right to be so damn pissed off by his sudden appearance as he hasn't been invited to stay over in the first place. Instead of replaying something, he nods quietly and continues his way to the kitchen.

His head is still hurting and he still feels so disgustingly dirty.

"Are you alright?"

When he throws a brief glance over his shoulder, he sees that Len still hasn't moved from his spot at the couch and that he is watching him intently now.

It is then that Barry picks up that his own hands are actually shaking.

"Y-yeah."

Memories couldn't hurt him, he is alright.

Len stays quiet after that and Barry goes on preparing the tea. He ends up filling two cups and while he knows that the other man would most likely not want it, the notion of sharing it with somehow is nice and calming. To his surprise, it is accepted.

"Thanks," Len watches Barry expectedly when he keeps standing next to him and doesn't move to take a seat on the couch.

"C-could w-we s-sit on th-the k-k-… k-kitchen t-table?"

He sounds still so damn shaken and averts his eyes in embarrassment.

"Sure," agrees Len and gives him an odd look but doesn't comment otherwise on his request.

Barry doesn't feel like talking, so that they end up in silence once again but it doesn't bother him, seeing that the other man's presence alone is soothing to him. Len seems to understand and doesn't try to start a conversation, not that he has ever been that big at that.

"Wh-why…"

Again, Barry just realizes that he is talking as the word has already passed his lips. He stops himself and lowers his head a bit while keeping his eyes on the amber liquid in the cup in front of him. Len is watching him intently again, his gaze is nearly as palpable as an actual touch. Barry shivers slightly.

"Wh-why d-did y-you… v-vanish?" he asks in a small voice and hates himself for the need to do so. It is obvious why the other man has stayed away, he had enough of him and his oddities and probably realizes that there is something severely wrong with him, like everybody else does at one point or another.

"W-was i-it b-bec-cause o-of s-s-someth-thing I-I d-did?"

Slowly, he looks up to meet the other man's eyes with an uncertain expression.

"D-did I-I d-do o-or s-s-say s-s-someth-thing wh-while I-I w-was d-drunk?"

Len frowns and there is a grimness to the way he studies him now that causes Barry's stomach to sink.

"No, you didn't and it wasn't because of you."

This answer is a bit of a surprise, mostly because he has expected him to simply tell him off. Still, he knows that the other man isn't telling the truth, at least not completely.

"I-I c-can b-be… o-odd at t-times," Barry states quietly:" I-I kn-know th-that... I-I a-am…"

He chews on his bottom lip for a moment as he glances down to his tea cup before he looks up again.

"I-I c-can't h-help i-it."

Len returns his gaze and he seems not sure what to make of what he has just said.

"You are no odder than most people I know," he finally says before he huffs slightly and rubs his temple.

"Look, I have been busy, the last few weeks have been crazy and I just hadn't the time to pass by. It wasn't anything personal."

Barry watches him for a long moment before he slowly nods.

"Ok-kay, g-good."

It is a lie, at least partly but Barry doesn't want to touch upon it, not now. Being not alone after one of these damn nightmares is soothing and reassuring and he doesn't want to chase Len away again.

"I-I a-am g-glad th-that y-you h-have c-come ov-ver," he tells him honestly:" D-despite m-my r-reac-ction f-from b-before."

Like usual, Len doesn't seem particularly fond of this kind of talk and he looks rather ill at ease as he replays with short nod of his own. Barry takes pity on him and decides to take a shower. The feeling of hands on his skin hasn't left yet and he just wants to get rid of it already.

"Thank you, my dear boy," Mrs Ming gives him a faint smile after Barry brought her some freshly made chicken soup.

The old woman has caught the flue and thus is currently bedridden. Barry, who has ignored her attempts to assure him that she is fine on her own, has been checking up on her once an hour during work to see whether she was doing alright and whether she needed something.

"Jamie will be here in an hour, then you don't have to worry about me anymore," she tells him with an apologetic smile after he has refilled her cup with fresh tea.

"It is r-really n-no t-trouble," he assures her again with a smile:" Y-you c-can't h-help it and you are o-one of th-the n-nicest p-patients anyb-body c-could w-wish f-f-for, s-so d-don't w-worry."

The day is a rather slow one, anyway. There is a storm raging and most people seem to avoid going outside too much. This is quite alright with Barry, seeing that he doesn't have to worry about locking potential customers out every time he briefly closes the entrance to look after Mrs Ming. It also gives him the opportunity to take stock of things and write down what he has to re-order.

The radio is static again as he re-enters the store a few minutes later but he decides to leave it running on low as it gives him at least some kind of background noise while he works.

It is close to six pm when an Asian man in his mid to late thirties enters and Barry is immediately sure that he is the grandson of his employer she always talks of so fondly.

He is about Barry's height but in a much better physical state and very smartly dressed. Mrs Ming told him that he is working for a big Company as a financial consultant and thus has to travel a lot. For the last ten month he has been in China but returned today from his stay there, which is quite a lucky coincident, seeing that it would certainly help Mrs Ming to have her grandson around right now.

Barry wonders whether the man has come directly from the airport or not but seeing that he doesn't have any luggage with him, it is more likely that he made a quick trip to his apartment at first before coming here.

The man looks rather tired, though, as he glances swiftly around the store before his eyes land on him. He frowns slightly before he starts to walk over to him.

"Hallo, I am James Lai," he introduces himself and offers Barry his hand with a small smile:" I am the grandson of Bo Ming, the owner of this store. I take it that you have to be Barry?"

Surprised, he nods and stammers an affirmative. This causes the other man to chuckle.

"She really likes you," he explains with a kinder smile:" She has told me quite a lot about you during our calls."

The warmth in his eyes lessens again and he studies him quietly for a moment. Barry is pretty sure that he is going to tell him that he would be watching him and that he should think twice before trying something stupid just because he is working for an older woman or something along these lines. He doesn't doubt that the man knows that he is an ex-convict, Mrs Ming never mentions it towards Barry but she and her grandson seem to have a very close relationship and it is unlikely that she would have left this piece of information out.

James doesn't say anything of this kind to him, though. The slight frown vanishes again and instead turns to the door that leads to the stairs.

"I will go and take a look at her. She is upstairs, isn't she?"

"Y-y-yes," nods Barry and, with that, James is gone again.

Closing is quite a short matter today as he had enough time to clean everything over the last hour with no people passing by as the rain has still been getting steadily stronger. He doesn't complain, the humid weather causes his joints to act up and he is glad that he can takes his time with everything.

Barry is just counting the money of today's receipts when James joins him in the small backroom where the little vault for their daily receipts is placed.

It is ridiculous but Barry can't help but feel uncomfortable and a bit worried by the other man seeing him with the cash. Nervously, he puts the money down and turns to him.

"Hey," greets James and Barry picks up that his voice sound not as reserved as before but quite a bit warmer:" I just wanted to see whether I could lend you a hand with the closing but it seems that you are nearly finished already."

"Y-yes i-it w-was a-a s-slow a-aftern-noon, I c-could d-do m-most o-of th-the c-cleaning b-bef-forehand," he explains and smiles uncertainly:" B-but th-thank y-you anyw-way."

"No problem, I think lending you a hand is the least I can do after you have taken such great care of my grandmother today."

"Th-that is n-not n-neces-sary, r-really. I-I aam g-glad I-I c-could h-help a b-bit."

James watches him again quietly for a moment. It causes Barry to grow nervous and he fidgets a bit before he turns back to the cash.

"I-I w-will b-be f-finished i-in j-just a-a c-couple o-of m-minutes," he explains to fill the silence between them and offers a bit more hesitant:" Y-you c-can r-rec-count i-it."

The other man frowns at that.

"I am sorry if I came over somewhat hostile before, I had a long day and I was worried about lao lao, I didn't mean to insinuate anything."

James smiles a bit sheepish at that and asks him if he would like to join him upstairs in the kitchen for some hot chocolate. Barry hesitates as he doesn't really like the idea of being alone with another man he knows next to nothing of.

Then again, this is Mrs Ming's grandson and he immediately feel a bit ashamed for assuming the worst of this seemingly nice guy just because he is so damn screwed up.

"S-sure," he agrees with a rather forced smile and is a bit surprised about how pleased the other man actually seems about it.

"Great, you go on and finish with the money and I will get upstairs and prepare the drinks, alright?"

"Ok-kay."

James grins at that and Barry is left alone once again.

Confused, he watches the spot where the other man has stood just a moment before and while the notion of spending some time with him makes him nervous, it is also nice to think that he has been invited in the first place.

He turns back to his work feeling more relaxed than he has been before.


End file.
